A Creed Unhinged
by RaxusLives
Summary: The Collectors can continue their harvesting. The Reapers can return. To Shepard, it no longer mattered. He had made a promise, and not even the gods arrayed against him could prevent him from keeping it.
1. Martyr

**Author's Note: First: Please leave comments, reviews, whatever. I live off that stuff. Secondly: It has been a *long* time since I've written anything to publishing quality... We will see how this goes. Third: The Character/Romance tags are deserved. I won't go into details, but... yeah. This is looking to be a 8-9 Chapter work, so give it time. Thanks for reading! (Again, leave reviews!)**

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**Chapter One: Martyr**

"_**Forsan miseros meliora sequentur..."**_

**(For those in misery, perhaps better things come after...)**

**~Virgil of Rome**

The alley was dark, the electricity for this district of Omega being long dead. A perfect place to hide. And it was in this alley, coated in a fine layer of trash and debris, that the fugitive chose to turn into. She was limping badly, her left leg unresponsive, broken bones grinding with every step. Her breathing also showed problems, with inhalation coming only after repeated fits of coughing. Not that the fugitive was unaware of this. Checking her omnitool, the array of flashing red lights told her what her body was quite obviously alluding to:

_Tali'Zorah vas Normandy was dying._

Retaining consciousness was also becoming a problem. The men who had been searching for her seemed to have given up, but blacking out would have only augmented her problems, for she was quite certain she would not wake back up. A hunk of steel, laying in that alley undisturbed for the last half century was about to put that hypothesis to the test.

Actually seeing that steel was the problem, for condensation from her labored breathing was building on her suit's visor, as available power was prioritized towards keeping suit integrity and her vital organs functioning. Combined with the crack that branched from the visor's bottom left corner and ran horizontally across her line of sight, and tripping over a large piece of steel in a dark alley was almost inevitable.

So Tali fell. She moved to catch herself on the wall nearest to her, but the two bullets lodged in that shoulder made the reaction time far too slow. Instead, this movement only managed to cause her to fall forward with her shoulder sliding down the entire length of the wall. The self-sealed portions of her suit that had automatically engaged when she had been shot ripped again. The culmination of this was a vivid red slash of her own blood being left on the wall, marking her path of decent in a most morbid way. Upon hitting the floor, her head came down with considerable force, further fissuring the crack in her visor, and breaking off one of the pair of metal protrusions that came off her mask's chin. Without a grunt or cry of pain, Tali passed into unconsciousness.

It felt so good, so pleasant, for the pain she had been experiencing to disappear. A small voice cried for her to wake up, to get moving. But that voice was _so_ small, so _distant_. She had earned a rest. And with that rest, the events of two days ago came back in surprising detail. Tali could not believe it had taken her so long to finally work up the courage, but Yeoman Chamber's gentle prodding along with the picturesque conclusion to her trial aboard the Migrant Fleet had finally given her the opening, and she had expressed her feelings to Shepard. And it was so, _so_, wonderful to find out that Shepard felt the same! Then there was that conversation a few hours ago, before Shepard left to go find "Archangel" aboard Omega; it was like lifting a great burden off her chest. As her mind started recalling that particular discussion, things started to fall apart.

Those happy thoughts thus broke off suddenly, a blank slate of white replacing the images she had been enjoying. Unbeknownst to Tali, her suit was registering a change in her heart rhythm. With the fall she had just endured re-ripping her envirosuit, the built-in microcomputer had sealed off what it could, but her Medigel reserves were dry. The bullet wounds, now riddled with brick and metal fragments from the wall, were bleeding profusely. As her heart worked harder and harder to pump lower and lower amounts of blood, it began to become overworked, to the point that the beating was actually starting to slow again. Seeing this, her suit dumped the remaining adrenaline it had in reserve into her bloodstream.

To Tali, this took place during five seconds of the most frightening experience of nothing she had ever experienced. That fear quickly receded as the adrenaline boost returned her heartbeat to something approaching normality, and the memories started again. But instead of just remembering past events, she started _living_ them. Any medical student could tell you that an out of body experience is a bad thing for a dying person to have. But to Tali, it seemed so natural to once again be standing withing the depths of the rebuilt Normandy. She was realigning the power couplings, too focused on her work to hear the elevator arrive on the bottom floor. But when heavy footsteps clanged on metal floorboards, she turned around just in time to see Shepard glance down towards Jack's "cavern" in the ship bowels, before taking a couple more steps to talk to her.

"How is it going down here, Tali?" The Commander asked, glancing over her shoulder to the instrument panel blinking quietly behind her. Height gave him that luxury.

"Just resetting those power couplings... I know Donnelly and Daniels have talked to you about finding some T6-FBAs... right?" She fidgeted a bit, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Why did she go straight to that? Her subconscious chided her; getting those new couplings would not relieve the anxiety she had developed since revealing her feelings for Shepard two days prior.

The Commander chuckled, holding up his hand. "I'm looking, I'm looking. Those things are tough to find, being so old. And I'm busy. Don't forget Gardner has me on the lookout for new foodstuffs..." He let that trail off. "Or anything that would work for you."

Tali dismissed that with a wave of her three fingered hand. "We are on a Cerberus ship. It doesn't surprise me they lacked any food stores for dextro-amino systems such as mine. You're just lucky Garrus isn't here. He wouldn't be happy." She laughed a bit, remembering her old crewmate. In reality though, the paste usually given out for quarians on pilgrimage she had been living on since coming back aboard the Normandy was in no way construable as an enviable dietary plan.

Shepard smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. The connection felt electric to her. How she wished to actually _feel _Shepard's skin! "Have you got time to talk?" The seriousness in his voice was unexpected, pushing the surprising pang of lust back under her usually rational mind, which saw the opportunity that Shepard had just planted at her feet.

"Yes, I-I would like that..." She managed, before turning to lead him towards the power core, it's location isolating their conversation from the other engineers. 'This is your chance!' her mind screamed. Upon reaching the end of the walkway, she turned towards Shepard and plunged ahead. Her unfortunate habit of talking a lot during times of duress proved beneficial here. She had to get it out. "I've been thinking about the last time we talked. I'm.. I'm sorry. I was unprofessional, and I wasn't thinking rationally. I was being stupid. And _selfish_." The last word tasted bad in her mouth.

Shepard brought a hand to his chin, gently stroking a vibrant orange scar in deep thought, that mark being the last visible reminder of his death and rebirth. That thought chilled Tali. She had always had a bit of a crush on him during their fight against Saren. But it had been his death, watching from an escape pod as explosions ripped the old Normandy in two, that had brought the realization that those feelings were not just childish fantasies. That revelation, during his death, had almost killed her. She remembered the weeks after. The presence of a pistol to her temple, the barrel unfelt behind the coating of ablative armor layered on her helmet. But at this range, she knew it wouldn't matter. And then she had brought that pistol down, dropping it into her lap, crying. Not out of fear or happiness, but out of anger. Why hadn't she been able to do it?

"Tali," his voice brought her out of her recollection. He smiled a bit, "you've never been selfish. If anything, you've spent too much time thinking of the Fleet, and not enough time thinking of yourself."

She shook her head, firmly: "That might be true for humans, but quarians are different.. We can't just... We have to think of other people. Always." And it had been that instinctual intuition that had pulled her back from the brink. Her pilgrimage was done. She had a father, a crew, a people that needed her. She had allowed Shepard to fade. When he had reappeared on Freedom's Progress, in Cerberus company none the less, the wall she had built had refused to crumble. She coasted through the rest of the mission, and through life after that. Shepard was alive, but it hadn't felt real to her. On Haestrom, his raw desire to have her back had finally battered through that wall. It wasn't until she had boarded the new Normandy that the sheer enormity of the task she had just undertaken dawned on her. In truth, she was here only for Shepard.

She pushed on with the conversation. "If we don't think about the needs of the whole crew, people could get hurt, even killed." Tali started pacing, the true nature of her fears flowing from her mouth. "You deserve to.." she sighed, "to be happy with someone. I can't do that. No matter how much I...I could get sick. Jeopardize everything." She turned to face the Commander. He had to see it too.

"Are you saying you could die if we were together?" He set a hand on the nearby rail. A concerned look covering his face.

Tali could only shrug. "It's always a risk. I could just get sick, or I could be down for a week, or yes, I could die. I don't know, my... interests have always been so traditional. But that's not what I'm concerned about. I don't want you distracted. I don't want what I want to hurt this mission. It's too important." Could he see it? She wasn't sure. Humans were so egotistic sometimes. To her, it was obvious.

The thoughtful, concerned look hadn't left his face. "And if you weren't jeopardizing anything?"

"If it were just me?" His nod prompted her to go further. "I watched you tear into the Thorian on Feros like a force of nature. Nothing could slow you down. I watched your face as Wrex betrayed you. As you did what you had to. I watched you stand against everything the galaxy could throw at you. I've watched you for so long.. And I never imagined you'd ever see past... this." She touched her face mask, a pained expression painting the face Shepard had never seen.

Shepard took her hands in his, looked straight into her eyes, and in a single sentence reversed the direction of the conversation: "Tali, if you're scared, I don't blame you. But I don't want anybody else. I want you. And I'll do whatever it takes to make it work."

Everything was a blur for her. His words still hadn't registered when she started, "I... I wouldn't blame you, if... but.. Oh." A solitary tear rolled from her silver eyes, their cat-like reflective qualities giving them a distinct, if misleading, glow behind her polarized visor. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Shepard was supposed to see her reason, to agree to cool their relationship down. But now she was crying? And then the solution hit her. Shepard had considered these problems too. And just like the Thorian, just like Wrex, and just like Saren, he had gotten past them. Before, he had done it for the galaxy, or perhaps a sense of duty. But now... Now he was doing this for her. Solely... for her. She was nearly speechless. Shepard's concerned look finally lifted as Tali found the words to respond.

"T-Thank you. You don't know what that... thank you." Shepard moved forward, embracing her in arms. He said nothing as tears continued to stream down her face. The suit was removing them as fast as they fell, but if felt so good to cry. After a few minutes, Shepard, still holding her, began speaking again.

"Tali, I will need you to do one thing for me." His voice sounded odd, out of place with the serenity that had enveloped her. She pulled back from his touch, tilting her head in an outward sign of bewilderment.

"And what would that be?" She finally asked.

Shepard stared at her, unblinking. His voice, when he answered, was as hard as she had ever heard it: "I need you to wake up Tali. I need you to wake up."

And the pain came back. With a crescendo of unimaginable torment, Tali shook off the cobwebs of unconsciousness, while simultaneously spurting off a stream of vulgarity that would have made Jack proud. She found herself in a puddle of her own blood, the red liquid having already caked her suit. How long had she been out? The answer, according to her readouts visible on her left arm, was far too long. Blood still streamed from her right shoulder, while her Omnitool reported her suit's on-board battery was dangerously low. No one, however, had found her.

"Shit." She mumbled, suddenly finding herself coughing out a hollow laugh. Shepard had taught her that particular human vulgarity. Minimizing all the emergency displays that continued blinking on her Omnitool, she simultaneously moved cautiously into a rough sitting position. Achieving this only with several sharp gasps as broken bones and tattered muscles fought to announce their displeasure, Tali took in her situation.

'_My pursuers must have given up, or they would have made sure I never woke up_', she thought, coughing a bit of blood onto her visor in the process. This determination of relative safety, however, brought her back to the end of her pain and drug induced delusion. Everything she could remember about that conversation was correct, except that ending. How had that happened?

This momentary lapse in physical movement almost proved disastrous, as her head abruptly tilted downward, the dangerous stupor of unconsciousness nearly overwhelming her. Although she recovered, a distinct graying of her vision had begun, slowly creeping towards the center of her gaze. Tali realized what this was: her brain was fighting a losing battle against the temptation of "rest". Gritting her teeth, she gave a quick prayer to Keelah, before desperately scrapping her damaged shoulder against the rough brick wall beside her. Tears welled in her eyes, but the pain did succeed in returning clarity to her thought-processes.

With that clarity, Tali moved quickly to contact the Normandy. The poor infrastructure of her current location forced her to use a broad sweep of millions of tightbeam broadcasts. One of them, hopefully, would hit an extranet umbrella, which could then ferry the message to the Normandy, and Shepard. If those hunting her were still close, they would easily pick it up, which had prevented her from doing so previously. She couldn't worry about that now though, for she doubted she would have the endurance to last much longer. After a few seconds of tenacious typing, the message was ready. Sighing in relief, she brought her right hand, after considerable effort, onto the "launch" button.

_And nothing happened._

Eyes widening in despair, she noticed a countdown that was impeding the launch. Her suit was consolidating all remaining power so it would have enough to make the broadcast large enough. The countdown was over 10 minutes. She tried overriding the block, but a diagnostics check confirmed her fears: if she didn't wait for her suit to regain enough power, the chances of getting the distress call to the Normandy were too small. She had to wait. With anguish, she leaned her head back in despondent sadness.

As the countdown approached 8 minutes remaining, her vision started to blur again. Mouthing a silent curse, _bosh'tet_, she once again prepared to grind her damaged shoulder against the wall. But her shoulder did not respond. The acidic taste of fear rose again, almost consuming her. She tried shifting into a different position, but her body was incapable of responding in the way she needed. An attempt to grab the knife holstered on her left leg proved the futility of any further action, for even that small distance was too far to garner anything useful, much less the knife.

And the blackness kept creeping forward, slowly overcoming her vision. It was so terrifying, and yet so comforting, inexorably moving her closer to cognizant oblivion. Letting her head slump to the side, she breathed an apology that no one would hear. "I'm sorry, Shepard." As her Omnitool hit the 6 minute mark, the darkness which she had held at bay finally overcame her. Tali drifted slowly into unconsciousness. The biometric indicators she had minimized recorded everything else.

At 22:19, local time, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy's breathing stopped.

At 22:20, local time, her heart went arrhythmic, before stopping abruptly shortly afterward.

At 22:22, local time, all major brain activity stopped.

At 22:24, the biometrics produced a time stamp, for posterity, of her death.

At 22:25, her suit's internal transmitter fired off nearly three million tightbeam broadcasts in a 360 degree arc, with six of those reaching extranet umbrellas with enough strength to transfer their data packet to the local datahives. These in turn contacted the Normandy. EDI, upon reading the information, informed The Commander within the same minute.

Shepard, along with a small rescue detachment soon left to find Tali. They would arrive, of course, too late.

**Continues in Chapter 2: Commitment**


	2. Commitment

**Author's Note: Once again, please review. Or favorite me. Or whatever. Just think of it as supplying an addict. I need it!**

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**Chapter Two: Commitment**

"_**Mutantur omnia nos et mutamur in illis..."**_

**(All things change, and we change with them.)**

**~Nicholas Borbonius**

Buildings passed at disturbing speed, the Kodiak shuttle swerving quickly to avoid several apartment buildings on the point of collapse. Omega was dangerous to travel through, he knew that. But his mind was not on the shuttle. It was on Shepard. With hands flying quickly across the holographic controls, Garrus had little time to examine him. But something was wrong. He could feel it.

"Well, looks like I signed on just in time to save her again, right Commander?" No response. Garrus sighed. The distress message from Tali had came in nearly fifteen minutes ago, just as he had been waking up from surgery. That gunship had almost killed him. He shrugged a bit at that thought. Women loved scars. He hoped.

The onboard computer soon chimed, telling him they would reach Tali's location soon. A small alley by the looks of it, which brought a smirk to his face. Hadn't he and Shepard found her in just such an alley on the Citadel, looking down the barrel of some Turian merc's pistol? Glancing at Shepard's apparent anxiousness, Garrus felt no need to worry. Sure, the message she had sent was weak, garbled. Only her transmission location had come through fine. But how many times had they received that same sort of message from Wrex, needing to be bailed out of prison after another barfight?

Shepard, however, seemed to think different. Since boarding the shuttle along with Mordin and Grunt, he hadn't said a thing. Garrus tried again: "Come on Shepard, I'm sure Tali's fine. She helped stop Saren. Helped kill Sovereign. _She is fine_." The resolution in his voice did little to shake Shepard out of his daze. He did, however, respond.

"What's our ETA?"

Garrus slid back on the throttle, bringing the shuttle into a hover. "We..." he started descending slowly, "are..." then turned the Kodiak, sliding it between two buildings, "here." The thump of the hull hitting pavement backed up his statement. Shepard was the first out the door, assault rifle in hand. Garrus was right behind him, followed by Grunt. Mordin stayed on board, relaying information back to the Normandy.

Moving to the entrance of the alley, Shepard gestured silently, giving them a command to wait here while he scouted ahead. Garrus started to argue, it was a tactically poor move, but Shepard had already moved into the shadows of the backstreet, which lay uncovered by the lights of the road it branched off of.

Glancing around, Garrus used the lull in action to take in his surroundings. By the looks of it, this was one of the oldest portions of station. Chasing down the various gang-lords of Omega as "Archangel" had led him to some of the worst parts of the station, but he had never been here. Thinking of his alias brought his thoughts back to the ridiculous nature of his current predicament. He could not believe it had been mere hours ago that he had been stuck on that roof, corpses littering the bridge to his compound. And now he was here, fresh from a rushed surgery, working with a man the galaxy thought dead. Bringing a hand up to touch the jagged scars that marred the right side of his face, Garrus winced. Rushed, yes, but Chakwas and Mordin had done well enough. He was considering looking for a mirror to examine their work thoroughly when a yell forced him out of his musings.

"Mordin!" Shepard's call erupted suddenly from the alley, his voice sounding strange. As Mordin sped past himself and Grunt, Garrus followed quickly. As he neared the Commander, his location marked by a circular orb of light, Garrus abruptly recognized the change in Shepard's voice. He had never heard _fear _in the Commander. The scene he arrived on proceeded to justify the presence of that emotion.

Shepard had detached his light, mounting it on the crumbling wall above a body. Tali's body. Coated in a layer of blood, her suit showed two large ruptures in the right shoulder. His C-Sec training taking over, Garrus figured those wounds must have made the macabre red mark on the nearby wall, as if she had fallen in some way. Mordin engaged his Omnitool, linking it with hers, while Garrus leaned in closer. Her eyes were not open, but it was hard to tell a quarian's health from behind that mask. Her posture, however, was not a good omen. She was simply leaning against the wall, sitting in a drying pool of her own blood, head slumped.

"Is she... unconscious?" Garrus was no fool. Losing that amount of blood was bad. But those suits were all equipped to handle anything, and he didn't want to... _no_. She was alive.

"Trying. Trying. It is hard, Quarians lock their biometrics. Reading biometric reports... Like rape in her culture." Mordin replied, his right hand moving at a feverish pace. "There. In. Now, let's see..." His mouth dropped slightly, a dark look furrowing his brow, before he suddenly broke off contact with Tali's omnitool, shaking his head. "Shepard. She, she, has..." He seemed unable to continue.

Hearing Mordin speechless was a first for Garrus, but processing what he was implying shoved that aside. It was painful. Too painful. He wasn't, _couldn't, _be saying that Tali was gone! Shoving Garrus aside, Grunt grabbed the salarian by the arm, and gestured to Tali. "Dammit Mordin. Get it out. Is she dead?"

The question hung in the air, poignant in it's implication. Mordin stared, unblinking, into Grunt's eyes. After nearly three seconds, he finally answered.

**"Yes."**

That affirmation hit Garrus hard, sending his mind back to two years prior. Hearing that the Shepard had failed to make it out of the Normandy as it was ripped apart had been bad. But he had never seen the body, never been witness to a scene that showed the last minutes of his death. Tracing his hand slowly over the blood streak the marked the wall, Garrus could not stop his mandibles from shaking. From angst or anger, he did not know. "Is there anything we can do?" He knew that answer before he asked it.

Grunt released Mordin's arm, allowing the salarian to check his omnitool before replying. "I'm sorry. She has been gone nearly thirty minutes." He leaned against the wall opposite of her body, head slumping in a sign of defeat. "Quarian cellular biology is strong, besides immune system. Suit helps. But blood loss? Substantial. Brain, vital organs, they take a while to start decomposition in that suit. But, she is gone."

"Fuck." The first word from Shepard since discovering Tali was filled with a level of sadness that corrupted the very nature of that particular vulgarity. He had been kneeling next to her, his hand holding hers, since calling for Mordin. Saying that word, though, seemed to shake him from a nearly comatose state. His face, usually covered in a smile or in the midst of a laugh, contorted in such a way that Garrus had never seen. This was not anger. This was not rage. It was something... worse.

"Goddammit. I promised..." His voice broke, eyes starting to water. But then the vehemence returned. He seemed to thrive on it. "I promised her we would make this work! That nothing would happen!" Shepard's hand balled into a fist. The first punch went into the wall, a cracking bone accompanying the sound of armor rending against brick. He struck it again. And again. The third was followed by silence. Shepard closed his eyes, dropping back to his knees in front of Tali's body.

This scene lasted for a while. Grunt, after watching Shepard's outburst, walked back to the shuttle. He was pragmatic. What had killed her could be coming back. Mordin stayed against the wall, running through her biometrics again. He never got to look at quarian information. Only Garrus watched Shepard, as dozens of emotions ran across his face. There were no tears, no more signs of sadness. Just numerous shades of anger.

And Garrus was struck with confusion. Losing a friend was bad, he knew that. But this amount of anger, especially in Shepard seemed out of place. And what was this "promise"? It would have been more expected if... He stopped, overtaken by the simplicity of it. Shepard and Tali must had been in _love_. It would have been a secret, or something new. Ship gossip had said there may have been a crush between them when they fought Saren, but it had never went further then that. And what of his new crewmates? Despite his swift stay on the new Normandy with most of it being while he was unconscious, Garrus had met Kelly Chambers. Her official position was "Yeoman", but Garrus knew bullshit when he saw it. Chambers was a shrink. She would have known about this, but besides her? No one knew them as he did. Shepard was too private to let that sort of thing slip out. And Tali telling anyone? No way in hell.

Slipping out from under his discovery, Garrus noticed Grunt was returning from the shuttle. His business-like manner seemed inappropriate for such a somber scene. "Miranda has been trying to reach you, Shepard. She wants to know about Tali. I thought you should tell her." Garrus tilted his head a bit in surprise. That was sentimental, for a krogan at least.

Shepard seemed to have missed that though, for he had stood upright immediately upon hearing Miranda's name. As soon as Grunt had finished, he was running towards the shuttle. Garrus followed. "Commander, Shepard! Wait! What are you doing!?"

Shepard spun on his heel, halfway back to the shuttle, and grabbed Garrus by the shoulders. "Don't you see Garrus? Miranda? Cerberus? The Lazarus Project! I can keep that promise!" It took him a moment to catch up, but Garrus finally got it. He had heard that this Cerberus backed Lazarus Project had brought Shepard back from death. Could they do the same for Tali? Shepard seemed to think so. Letting go of his shoulders, Shepard finished his sprint to the Kodiak.

Following Shepard, Garrus reflected on this turn of events. Hope had returned the man he had known for so long, pulled him from the very brink of disaster.

Losing that hope would push him over it.

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The doctors had worked for hours, but the damage had been done. The shotgun blast had been directed at the joint where his armor's chest stratum met the torso plate, a death wish for any human. Harlan'Con, however, was not human. A shot like he had endured rarely killed directly, it was the resultant infection that finished the job. Modern medicine had come far, but as intestines burst, riddled with buckshot, their naturally corrosive nature spread any foreign bacteria present throughout the body. This was a mute point for Harlan'Con. His envirosuit had succeeded in containing the infection, keeping the fluids that had filled portions of his chest cavity from spreading any further. Being quarian, however, had given the infections he had sustained priority. It was only after eight hours of work that one of the trio of doctors working on him had discovered the pellet lodged in his spine. Removing it was easy, but scans showed his lower body was not responding to the brain's commands.

After the surgery was complete, one of those doctors shot himself. Upon learning of his condition, Harlan proceeded to shoot the other two.

Summoning his soldiers, he asked a question. No response. He reloaded his pistol and asked again. "Did you find that bitch?"

Their response was apologetic, strategically sound, and so, _so _wrong. More men died at the end of his pistol.

**Continues in Chapter 3: Past the Brink**


	3. Past the Brink

**Author's Note: Once again, please review or favorite! Those who have been following this story may notice I changed the rating and teaser. This is simply an attempt to garner a larger readership. It will eventually have to return to M. And I intend to push that rating.**

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**Chapter 3: Past the Brink**

"_**Interdum, nex est melior..."**_

**(Sometimes, a violent death is better...)**

**~Unattributed**

_This ought to be good._ Jack was never one to socialize with the rest of the Normandy's crew, but that thought had been enough to rouse her from the maintenance area beneath the engineering deck. She just had to see it. It wasn't every day that a man of such high standards, of unblemished virtue, had the potential to fall apart. She smiled at that. Shepard _deserved_ it.

And so Jack sat in one of the vacant chairs that surrounded the Normandy's Combat Information Center, spinning a holopad in the air with her biotics. She was not the only one who had found an excuse to be just outside the Communication Room. Ever since Shepard had returned with Tali's body, the crew had been in a mixed state of mourning for the quarian and curiosity as to Shepard's reaction. Jack wasn't exactly linked into the rumor mill aboard the ship, but the talk was everywhere. Shepard had been in _love_ with Tali.

Jack snorted at that thought. Love? Love was a weakness, something to be stamped out. Desire and lust? Now Jack understood those. She had felt them towards Shepard, upon their meeting on Purgatory. She had found his physical presence, along with the fact that he had cared to visit her routinely, as strangely... cooling. Like a fire she could not douse was weakened when around him. So she had offered herself to him, in a way she had never done before: without an ulterior motive. And that bastard had turned her down.

All the condolences in the world couldn't change the facts. Shepard had chosen a quarian, a goddamn, fucking quarian over her! Upon hearing of his supposed relationship with Tali, an emotion had built in Jack like she had never felt. To someone less jaded, they would have identified that emotion as jealousy. But to Jack it was just another, somehow more poignant, form of hatred. And she had let it fester.

She was human. She was strong. _She was willing_. And what did Tali offer him? Weakness piled upon weakness. Maybe Shepard liked her innocence, her naivety. Or maybe it was just the fucking suit, the goddamn helmet, the whoreish accent. Jack mulled that over. If he had really loved her, Shepard had been an idiot, and he had payed for it.

Letting the holopad drop to the floor, Jack glared at nothing in particular. If the rumors were true, they shouldn't have had time to do anything... fun. But had he even seen her face? Touched her skin?

And it was the thought of Tali's skin that brought Jack out of her contemplation. She spun her chair to the left, where Mordin sat, supposedly running new combat algorithms through the weapon systems. She scowled at him. The lack of response that garnered required a more direct approach. "Hey, Mordin."

The salarian glanced at her quickly, slight discomfort showing on his face. She got that a lot. "Important work. Maybe later?"

Jack openly scoffed at that. "Bullshit, Mordin. Your waiting to hear The Illusive Man's decision. Just like everyone else." She gestured with both arms. Along with herself and Mordin, that movement encompassed most of the crew. Garrus, Joker, Jacob, Chambers... they were all here for some "reason" or another. Mordin seemed to see the futility in any further deception. He turned to face her.

"What?"

Jack smiled. She liked getting her way. "Seeing as no one has ever seen it, and you have looked through her medical records... Tali's skin. What color is it?" The question took the salarian aback. He gave her a dubious look, as if questioning her intentions. A few seconds of silence, however, failed to illicit an explanation from Jack. Seeing this, Mordin finally answered.

"Quarian skin color, like human or asari, varies. Tali." He sighed. "Tali's skin. Light purple." Another few seconds of silence passed between them. Mordin shifted uncomfortably. With a condescending salute, Jack finally let him off the hook.

"There. That wasn't so hard. Light purple, huh?" Mordin nodded in affirmation, obviously wishing to end this conversation. He knew a conversation such as this was considered sexually explicit by Tali's people. It was a perversion of her very memory. Jack knew that too. Only she didn't care.

Before she could dig any further, a single rifle shot rang out, reverberating through the Normandy. A half dozen firearms were pointed at the the Communication Room as Shepard stormed out, followed closely by Miranda. She was trying to reason with him. The smoking shotgun he carried displayed her at success at that endeavor.

"Shepard. Shepard! Do you know how much that communicator cost?" A conversation regarding the losses Cerberus sustained when he fired a blast of buckshot into the communications array was not high on Shepard's list of desires. His aiming of the shotgun at Miranda, in the midst of his crew, made that obvious.

"Go to hell." Shepard waved the shotgun around the room, "That goes for all of you!" With a growl of unmitigated wrath, he threw the Shotgun against the now closed door to the Comm room. "What do we have on this ship!? The galaxies best brought together! And you can't-" Shepard hesitated. He had never admitted his feelings for Tali openly. The anger he currently held threw any modesty he held out the window. With an accusing glare at no one in particular, he finished. "-bring her back!"

The assembled crew stood in silence, watching their Commander for his next move. He seemed to hesitate, his anger wavering. Miranda jumped into the lull. "I'm.. so sorry Shepard. I, and the Illusive Man, would do everything we could to bring... her back." She put a hand on his shoulder. "But it just isn't possible. The Lazarus project was built to bring you back. Just you. You must remember, that took four _billion_ credits and two years, with _decades_ of research prior to that. And it was all lost when we remote detonated the station. There is nothing Cerberus can do."

Shepard pulled away from Miranda's grasp, a weary look suddenly descending upon him. He saw the truth in her statement. "I'm going to see her." His statement was followed by action, as Shepard quickly boarded the elevator, heading down. Upon the closing of the elevator door, a cloud seemed to lift from the room. Garrus hacked out a nervous cough. Chambers rubbed one of her eyes. Jack jeered silently at her. Was that a tear? It was Miranda who finally broke the resulting silence. She rubbed her brow before addressing the crew. "Okay, everyone back to work..."

And most did as commanded. Rather quickly, the CIC emptied as everyone returned to their respective duties. Only Jack persisted in her seat, watching as Yeoman Kelly Chambers moved across the room to Miranda's side, before starting to speak in a soft voice. Jack listened in.

"It's not a good idea to let him do that. He has to let go. Keeping her down there will prevent Shepard from ever moving on." Kelly spoke in a whisper, her usually chipper attitude entirely absent.

Miranda gestured to the twisted remains of the shotgun, which Shepard had left. "I know, Chambers, but who is going to stop him?" Jack was disappointed, she had expected some real analysis from Kelly. Upon reflecting on that for a moment, Jack reversed her initial dismay. Knowing Miranda, that would have to be given in writing. Their conversation continued, but Jack had already tuned them out. She was on the move, heading back to her "den". And if just happened to take her past the portside cargo area? So be it.

Minutes later, standing on the catwalk just outside the elevator, overlooking the hanger-bay, Jack was able to see through the windows of the cargo area into what had been Grunt's room. Shepard was leaning against a large tank, his cheek pressed against the glass, eyes closed.

Upon returning with Tali's body from Omega, Mordin and Doctor Chakwas had rigged Grunt's old live-tank to prevent decomposition in Tali, in hopes that Cerberus could revive her at some point. Tali was thus suspended in a neutral fluid that prevented bacteria from feeding on her body. Seeing as the tank was originally designed to only keep someone alive, the doctors had ingeniously used the quarian's own envirosuit to regulate everything. Unfortunately for Jack, this had required them leaving her suit intact. Jack had wanted to see what Tali looked like, to see for her own eyes what Shepard had chosen over her. She now knew it was a hopeless wish, however. Even the rips in Tali's right shoulder showed nothing, the doctors having resealed them before flooding the tank.

Such a minor defeat did not keep Jack's lips from skinning back, as a vicious smile shined through her normally stormy exterior. That setup _would_ allow Tali's body to remain as it was indefinitely. As far as she was concerned, Shepard could keep that corpse as long as he wanted. That..carcass...would never bring Shepard happiness, only grief. He could imagine the decades that had as yet not passed, of the years they would have spent together. He could think of times that would never be, the love that would never be shared, the sheer amount of joy he would never experience.

And it would consume him.

Turning towards the stairs that led down to her adopted home, Jack laughed out a single word.

"Good."

* * *

She emerged from a dark, deep blackness.

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy shivered, the wind playing with her short raven hair. Upon processing that thought, she sat up with a start She shouldn't be able to _feel _the air. Upon looking down, the sight Tali beheld filled her with fear. Her envirosuit was gone. She was naked. Gasping, Tali looked around for something to cover herself with. There was nothing. In every direction, a field of trimmed pale yellow grass stretched to the horizon, blowing softly in the wind.

Tali tilted her head in confusion, a gesture learned from nearly a decade behind a visor that required something more than facial expressions. She lifted her arm in a most experimental way, feeling the air rush against her skin. It felt..._wonderful_. Since being fitted for her first envirosuit at the age of fifteen, Tali had forgotten what it was like to see without the glare of a visor, to smell without three layers of oxygen-scrubbing, to have her hair move in the wind. And like a blind man who could suddenly see, Tali realized what she had been missing.

It was this deluge of new sensations that prevented her from instantly recognizing her location. The videos she had seen in school, showing this planet, were over three centuries old. But any quarian could tell by a glance. This was Rannoch, the quarian homeworld. The orange sky, the pale grass, the dry air; there was no mistaking it. That realization left her aghast, as hundreds of questions surged through her mind. One, however, kept coming to the forefront.

How had she gotten here?

She sat there, running through these questions for nearly an hour. As her mind searched, the rest of her body slowly explored the new sensations it had long been restrained from experiencing. The feeling of a hand resting on her shoulder suddenly shook her to full perceptive clarity. It took her a moment to realize that it was her own hand. To be able to touch her own shoulder, without two layers of material between them, was an astonishing situation for the young quarian to find herself in. This prompted a curiosity to explore this -no- _her_ world.

Standing slowly, her body used to the tight cling of a suit that was no longer there, Tali started walking. The direction wasn't intentional, she was steering a random course. After awhile, she slowed again. Something disturbingly intangible told her to keep moving, but her senses were once again overwhelmed. She knelt, feeling the grass between her toes, took a flower, and breathed in. She knew hat flower's pollen should scare her; that much foreign material could kill her. But that fear, refused to come.

Eventually continuing on, Tali soon reached a small depression, where she lingered again, the wind blowing overhead. Sitting down, she spread her arms in the ankle deep grass, content with the world.

It was then she heard the rustling of feet moving towards her.

Pulling her legs to her chest, Tali did the best to cover herself. But what approached was not human, asari, or turian. It did not judge. It was a figure, of that Tali was sure. It seemed to be at the point of being blown away in the wind, like a column of smoke before a breeze. But beyond that, her mind seemed incapable of discerning much else. It was at once both identifiable and mysterious, a being that she could simply not comprehend. It seemed to sense her unease, and somehow, without changing its slow approach, soothed it.

Tali was at a loss for words. She breathed a single word. "Keelah..."

Hearing that word, the being stopped. It seemed to respond positively, for it's next act was to engage her directly. Nothing on it moved, but Tali felt as if she could feel it's very words.

"We are sorry, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy nar Rayya." The use of her formal name was reassuring to the quarian in a way she could not explain. She found herself asking a question.

"Who...what are you?" Her question hung in the air for what seemed like ages. The being, without moving, finally answered.

"You cannot join. _He_ is coming for you. _He _intends to bring you back. You should be ours. It is not right. It will not end well."

Tali was confused, her mind overloaded by the bizarre nature of the situation. She pressed for clarity, stammering out a second set of inquiries. "Who is he? What are you talking about!?"

The being's...aura, seemed to shift. Whatever is was thinking was bringing it to anger. And that anger bred a fear in Tali she had never felt, as if the very world she was on resented being forced to answer that question. Finally, it responded.

**"Shepard."**

The being disappeared, as did the grass. The ground turned brown, then started cracking as the moisture it had held disappeared. The wind instantly became a gale as heavy rain fell from the sky.

Tali screamed, and her world went black once more.

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**Continues in Chapter 4: The Answer**

**(Review or Favorite. Please!)**


	4. The Answer

**Author's Note: Please review or favorite, or whatever! To those who take the time to read these little notes every chapter, you may remember that I had estimated this piece may go for 8-9 chapters. Well, you can discard that number. Recent... changes.... had led me to increase the length. Thanks for reading!**

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**Chapter 4: The Answer**

"_**Abyssus abyssum invocat..."**_

**(One misstep leads to another...)**

**~Unattributed**

Illium was hot. A millenia ago, it's sheer size had allowed a thin atmosphere to develop. Over time, it had built up sufficiently to support life. But for reasons lost it had been slow in attracting development, until five hundred years ago, when the asari had finally established a colony. Today, the world was home to nearly 85 million people.

Liara T'Soni was a scientist, an intellectual. To her, this world's history was an excellent scholastic endeavor, especially with the loose trade regulations that had come to define it. But it was still hot. And it was that heat that Liara could not get out of her mind. As she walked towards the local spaceport, Liara shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. The combat hardsuit she wore was of the highest grade acquirable, and its bluish hue just so happened to match the color of her skin. But it was heavy, and as Illium's star Tasale beat down on her, it heated quickly. She contemplated attempting to readjust the temperature control, but decided against it. Her destination was rapidly approaching.

The Normandy, SR-2. _Hmm, _she thought, _it doesn't look that much different, despite it's increased proportions. _But the information she had been able to glean from her sources had told her different. Cerberus had taken the liberty of increasing the deck size from three to five, along with rearranging most of the interior. The armaments had remained the same, but Shepard seemed to have been in the process of improving the various combat systems.

If only he had done that two years prior, she could still very well have been on his crew. But he hadn't, the first Normandy had been lost, and Shepard had died. Liara sighed at that thought, but would not allow herself to dwell on it.

More recently, Shepard had come looking to recruit her only a few weeks before Tali had... gone down. Fate, however, had deemed that request impossible. Liara had been so close to getting one step closer to the Shadow Broker, and Shepard had allowed her to finish her work. But applying herself after finally seeing him again had proven impossible, and "The Observer" she had been following had slipped away. That had been disappointing, but the regret she had felt at not dropping everything to team up with the Commander had proven far worse. As she approached the Normandy's airlock, Liara hoped this would make up for it.

Waiting for her was a young human woman with short red hair and deep green eyes. Liara extended her hand in what she had learned to be an appropriate human gesture for first encounters. As the woman took it, Liara smiled. "You must be Kelly Chambers?"

Chambers smiled in return, but her eyes displayed a sense of urgency. "Indeed I am. I hate to rush you, but this has gone on for too long. Please, follow me." Tapping a small control console, the doors to the Normandy slid open. Chambers hurried in, with a gesture for Liara to follow. She did.

"I must thank you again for coming so quickly. I've had to wait nearly two weeks to act on this little plan, and I fear for him. Cerberus is thinking of cutting this whole operation, and they are getting anxious. You are our last hope." As Kelly talked, she led Liara through the darkened confines of the Normandy. With it being so late, most of the crew was asleep or attending the nightly poker game that Daniels and Donnelly put on in Engineering. As if reading her thoughts, Chambers subsequently acknowledged she had planned for this when suggesting the time frame in which to act.

As they passed the Command Information Center, Kelly picked up a datapad that had lain next to an inactive terminal. She handed it to Liara. "That would have all the information I have on his actions since we docked here two weeks ago." They boarded the elevator. As she hit the "Deck 1" button, the young psychologist continued. "He has fallen apart. If you can't do anything tonight, Miranda is under orders from the Illusive Man himself to cut Shepard loose this coming morning."

A slight ding announced their arrival on the uppermost floor, Shepard's personal cabin. Kelly once again led Liara, stopping shortly afterward in front of a locked door. "Whenever you are ready, just enter this override code." she handed Liara a strip of paper adorned with a hastily scrawled set of numbers, and gave her a small nod. "I wish you luck." And with that, Chambers reboarded the elevator, leaving the asari alone.

Prior to this meeting, Liara and Kelly had entertained a lengthy correspondence. Looking down at the datapad she had been handed, Liara noticed that most of the information they had previously spoken of was simply reiterated there. She reread it anyway:

_Since our docking here in Illium on the night of the 14__th__, nearly three weeks ago, Commander Shepard has fallen into a deep depression as a result of the loss of Tali'Zorah, his lover. I do not believe they have had sexual relations of any kind, given the nature of Tali's immune system and the brevity of their relationship. I must point out, however, that their romantic involvement was foreshadowed by a long friendship that dates back to the hunt for Saren. As such, attempting to reason with Shepard, in that he has not known her long enough to (bluntly put) care this much, would prove fruitless._

_ Two weeks ago, Shepard began shifting wildly between despair and anger, which happened to coincide with the delivery of a large crate of goods he refused to identify. Using the surveillance bugs Cerberus had planted within his room (which he has since destroyed), we have ascertained the contents of that crate. Some of it was an assortment of basic foodstuffs, with most of it requiring low to no preparation. The other two contents of that crate were far more upsetting to myself, knowing his psychological background._

_ The first was substantial amounts of alcohol. Shepard has never been to drink excessively, but the sheer volume he had acquired leads me to believe he may have recently changed in that regard. It should be noted that this is a natural, if uncharacteristic for Shepard, human reaction to sorrow._

_ The second, and to one of my profession most frightening, component of that crate was nearly a __**kilogram**__ of Red Sand. In case you are unaware, Red sand is a stimulant with biotic-enhancing properties. When taken nasally, red sand creates a brief but intense euphoria, and gives the user very short-term telekinetic biotic abilities. Side effects include red-tinting of the user's vision, discoloration of the teeth and longer-term withdrawal symptoms. This narcotic, while technically legal on Illium, is incredibly expensive. I shudder to think of exactly how Shepard managed to acquire such a large amount._

_ Since returning with that crate, Shepard has sealed himself in his room. I believe that he intends to drown his anguish in alcohol and narcotics. If this does not kill him before that food runs out, I must warn he keeps a sidearm somewhere on his person at all times, and suicide is a likely outcome._

_ ~Yeoman Kelly Chambers_

Gently setting the datapad upon the floor, Liara stifled a sob. With all Shepard had come through, including death itself, who could have foreseen this coming? Upon hearing of Tali's death through her various contact and informants, Liara hadn't even expected a formal funeral. Knowing the quarian, she would have wanted a traditional "Silence Ceremony" aboard the Migrant Fleet. But if what Chambers had relayed was true, Tali's body remained in a sort of stasis on the lowest deck.

Shaking her head, Liara started entering in the long override code she had been given. A single thought continued to pass through her mind as she waited for the door's microprocessor to confirm the code.

_If I can't rouse him from this stupor, I will just have to tell him about...__**it**__._

Thinking of that... possibility, sent a chill through her body. Those thoughts passed, however, as the door opened. The scene that greeted her filled her with dismay.

Shepard's normally immaculate room was strewn with garbage. From boxes of food to pieces of what had once been a sofa, Liara had trouble stepping anywhere without sticking an armored foot into some sort of mess. Most prominently, broken glass littered the floor, most of it seeming to have come from the shattered remains of numerous whiskey bottles. As she rounded the corner to come within sight of Shepard's bed, the glass was less the result of broken bottles, and more the aftermath of throwing a computer through what had once been a display case.

Raising her eyes from the filth that had become his room, Liara located Shepard. He was sitting at a desk with his head down, on which was displayed the N7 helmet he had worn when the Normandy had been destroyed. Next to that was an ugly piece of steel, which Liara recognized as some sort of archaic gunpowder based firearm.

"Shepard?" She tried. When he didn't respond, she made her way closer. Setting a hand on his shoulder, she tried again. "Shepard. Are you there?"

With a jolt, Shepard woke up. As he turned to inspect her, the face that met her eyes was almost unrecognizable to Liara. His normally blue eyes, once alight with the prospect of good times, now moved lethargically, entirely bloodshot. The pupils, dilated as they were, glowed with a slight red hue around their edges. Apparently the cybernetics Cerberus had installed had been acting up.

This all fled from her mind as Shepard suddenly lurched, the archaic pistol in his hand as he jumped to his feet, leveling the firearm at her. His battered eyes showed no hint of recognition. "How did you get in here?" He growled, swaying considerably, as if ready to collapse at any minute.

The asari raised her hands. "Shepard. It's me, Liara. Liara T'soni." Her words succeeded only in bringing a suspicious look to his face. Rubbing the beard he had recently grown with his free hand, he gestured with the pistol.

"Throw something at me."

His words confused her, but when she tried to get him to clarify, Shepard silently cocked the pistol's hammer. Apparently, he would brook no argument. So she bent down slowly, before returning to a standing position with a wad of plastic bags. Shepard hurried her on. "Come on, throw it at me."

So she did. Letting the pistol fall to the ground, Liara watched as Shepard's hands started to glow a faint blue. That same blue quickly appeared on the wad of plastic, stopping it in midair. Shepard was no biotic, which could mean only one thing.

"Commander, your high." She remarked quietly, while bending down to pick up the pistol Shepard had dropped. After awhile, the blue aura he had created started to fade, until the plastic wad fell to the floor. Sitting down quickly, Shepard let out a lazy laugh.

"Not for much longer." His remark was followed by silence, as Liara tried to find the words to address the situation. Finally, she asked a single question.

"Why?"

Shepard seemed to have been waiting for that. "Why? Why am I taking Red Sand? Why is "Commander Shepard", hero of the galaxy," he paused to rub his nose, as a line of blood slowly seeped from a nostril. When he continued, his voice was filled with contempt. "...doing this to himself? Because I am done. Ever since Elysium, ever since I stopped those slavers, people have done nothing but throw themselves at my feet. And Liara," Hearing him say her name returned some hope to the asari. _Perhaps, _she thought, _a chance yet remains for reconciliation._ He continued.

"...the woman have been the worst. I was a hero after Elysium, but I became the goddamn patron saint of humanity when we stopped Saren." His words were starting to run together, as the tempo of his dictation increased. "So then I had tentacle-heads, horny Krogan... hell, whatever female Elcor are, looking to get in my bed." He slammed a fist onto the desk, it's wooden exterior splintering under the pressure. But as he resumed talking, his voice had grown soft. "Until I met her, I had nothing but the next mission. But she intrigued me, and more importantly, she didn't whore herself out. So I pushed, and she actually _resisted._"

As he was talking, Liara slowly slid the pistol she had recovered into her belt at the small of her back. She knelt in front of Shepard, placing a hand on his knee. "She had her reasons."

"Your right." Shepard slowly shook his head in agreement. "But she still loved me. And not for saving the galaxy or defending a fucking colony. She saw past my accomplishments, past my medals, past the accolades. She loved _me_, dammit. _Me._" His words sounded increasingly hollow. _How many times has he ran over this in his head?_ She thought, before pressing him to continue with a slight gesture of her hand. So he did.

"Before... Before she _died, _I made a promise. That we would work this out, that this was what I really wanted, and that she would be safe. I promised her. And Tali..." He paused, her name bringing him to the edge of tears. "-Tali died because I failed, Liara. It's my fault. But I can rejoin her, make this right." Liara watched it what she latter could only call 'slow-motion', as the Commander reached under the desk and pulled out a second ancient pistol, identical to the one she had taken from him. Cocking the hammer and placing the firearm against his temple, Shepard smiled. "Tell the Council to go fuck themselves."

And he pulled the trigger.

Liara had watched, frozen in surprise as it had taken place. As he spoke of the Council, she finally found herself able to react. "No!" With a dive, she threw herself at Shepard. Physics dictated the result. She had been too slow, the distance too wide, to reach him before the bullet would strike his skull.

Biotics, however, rarely have to worry about traditional physics. Her dive was accompanied by a frantic biotic push, directed at the pistol. The dark energy hit the weapon as the gunpowder was touched off. The result was close, but the bullet missed by mere micrometers, the gun slamming against the wall opposite moments later.

Shepard was yelling in dismay, wedging vulgarities between his various demands for her to get off of him. But Liara held him down, utilizing her biotic ability to augment her inferior physical strength. She said nothing, waiting as Shepard's demands turned to requests, then broke off entirely as the result of her actions finally hit him.

After nearly a minute of silence, Shepard finally addressed her directly. "Liara. I was going to see Tali. Why? Why did you stop me?"

Liara fumbled with that question, but there was no other way. She had to tell him about _**it**_. If she couldn't give him hope, Shepard would just try to kill himself again, given the chance. Closing her eyes briefly, Liara gave a silent prayer to the Goddess, before finally answering him.

"Because there is a way to bring her back. It's called Rezkruban 666." She started to explain.

* * *

Looking over Omega from a top-level penthouse, Harlan'Con contemplated his next move. Eventually, he turned his wheelchair around to face the assembled soldiers that stood ready. Looking at a heavyset batarian, Harlan asked again. "We are _sure_ it was her?"

The batarian nodded, carefully choosing his response. His promotion had come about after Harlan had executed his superior. "After reviewing all existing surveillance of the attack, we are quite certain your assailant was Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. We were also able to ascertain that she died from the wounds you inflicted on her, coupled with the fall she sustained upon jumping off that balcony."

Harlan leaned his head against a hand, careful not to snag his glove on the spikes that adorned his mask. Your average quarian envirosuit was built for a utilitarian purpose. Useful, yes, in a fight, but not as strong as modern hardsuits. And useless against a shotgun blast at point-blank range. Since the attack, Harlan had rectified that situation.

"Shepard is relentless once he is committed. If the extranet rumors hold out regarding their relationship, he will try to bring her back, with or without Cerberus' help. There must be another way. Look into it, and prepare the Dreadnought as a precaution." With a wave of his hand, Harlan'Con dismissed the soldiers.

Tali'Zorah had crippled him, but he had killed her. The armored quarian laughed at that, returning to gaze out the window. He almost wished Shepard would succeed in resurrecting Tali.

Then he would hunt her down, peel off her mask, and look into her eyes as he sunk a dagger into her skull.

**Continues in Chapter 5: Aggressive Negotiations**

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Once again, please review. I love to hear from you guys. (And ladies).**


	5. Aggressive Negotiations Part 1

**Author's Note: First off, please. Please. Please Review. Now, I must have apologize for the latency of this chapter. Numerous revisions pushed back it's release, and you may notice I actually had to split the Chapter to continue my "every ending is a thriller" trademark. Hopefully, it was worth the wait. (Plus I managed to sneak in a Dragon Age reference!)**

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**Chapter 5: Aggressive Negotiations (Part 1)**

"_**Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem..."**_

**( Remember when life's path is steep to keep your mind even....)**

**~Quintus Horatius Flaccus**

Within the dark confines of the Kodak shuttle, a holographic display launched, showing nothing but static. Liara T'Soni waited patiently, her omnitool projecting the image into the vacant space between herself and the only other occupant of the passenger compartment: Shepard. Unlike the asari, the Commander looked harried, his expression obviously dissatisfied. "It will start in just one second, Shepard, the algorithms protecting this transmission were some of the best I have ever seen." Liara explained, smiling as the image finally started to clear.

The first thing to appear through the static was a large piece of concrete, falling towards whatever had recorded the images. The image faded out again as someone grabbed the camera, saving it from harm. Re-orientating the lens, a salarian face appeared. One of his eyes was swollen shut, lacerations criss-crossed his face, and blood tricked from the corner of his mouth. All in all, he seemed to be in a rather desperate situation. As the image finally came into focus, the salarian's damaged features spread into smile.

"Finally. Yes, finally..." His voice was slurred, halting in a most awkward fashion on seemingly random syllables. Dust falling from the ceiling accompanied a muffled explosion, causing the salarian to swear and move off-camera. The room he was inhabiting was almost entirely of concrete, the only defining characteristic being a word, stenciled neatly onto the wall, in red:

**SHELTER**

The salarian returned into view, looking over his shoulder at the word. He attempted to laugh, but only a haggard cough escaped. "Shelter? Shelter my friend?" He seemed to be addressing the camera directly,. "No shelter. Nothing stops a twenty kilogram slug traveling at a velocity of 4025 kilometers per second! One point three percent the speed of light? No, nothing. However, we are lucky, for we are safe from anything but a direct hit! But the turians are being very thorough. Thorough indeed. Bastards." He once again moved off screen, but he continued talking, finally giving purpose to the recording.

"Name. My name. Doctor Kalran! Although you know this..." As he yelled his name, another explosion sounded in the distance. That distance, however, had lessened since the first blast. Kalran continued, "This message, to tell, of success!" He returned into the camera's view, a canister within each hand. Shaking the left canister, he proceeded to toss if over his shoulder, resulting in a crack and splash, as its contents spread upon the ground once freed from the glass cylinder.

"664. A failure. Like all of the others! 663, 662, 661, down the line, to batch one! Failures!" His previously lighthearted nature darkened quickly. Hefting the canister in his right hand, he smashed it upon the ground. "And batch 665. The promise, oh! The promise!" Like an addict addressing an addiction, the salarian's voice was filling with lust. That emotion fell away, however, as he returned to a gravely rage. "You told me to fix them, to bring the dead back. So you Krogan could treat the still birthed, to return life to those killed by the Genophage! And I tried, dammit, I tried!"

The salarian was raving now, his interrupted speech pattern aggravated to the point of occasionally losing sentence fluency. "665 batches! How!? Temporarily speed up the metabolism of the dead, used salarians to attempt to replicate and enhance! How many died? _Hundreds_. And the turians will find them. Restart the brain and organs next. I tried to use Vorcha, their neoblast cells. And them? _Thousands died. _The turians will find the graves, as they 'dig'", Kalran laughed at that, "with their cannons!" A third explosion brought the doctor out of his ranting, the crack that accompanied uncomfortably close. The salarian again fled off screen, returning quickly with another canister.

"Hundreds of salarians, thousands of vorcha, all sacrificed for this. Production Protocol, Batch Six Hundred and Sixty Six!" He hugged the canister to his chest, another smile gracing his injured visage. "But I must warn, I give not immortality! I give not eternal life! 666 does not revive, it does not restore. It restarts! To restart a krogan beheaded, would do no good. He dies again, 666 is wasted. You must be careful, the dead must be in respectable shape. The dead of battle? 666 results iffy at best..." The salarian attempted another laugh, his success being cut off by a fourth explosion, sounding awfully close. His face vanished as the shelter plunged into darkness, the lighting failing all at once. Kalran's voice, however, continued. His tone was suddenly dampened, as if the darkness that had enveloped him had impeded his ability to perceive happiness.

"You, my benefactor, must not let this sample be destroyed. You gave me money, told me to return the dead. I get to cut people, you defeat the genophage. Win for everyone... Except the asari, turians, other salarians.." He named off nearly twenty different species before finally returning to topic. "And now, Turians have found me. They fire from orbit, but will land troops soon. But they will search, and they will search, and they will find _nothing. _You, however, know where this shelter is. You must search once the turians have left. Find me, find 666!" A last, terrific blast sounded in the dark as a mass accelerator round finally hit it's mark, the image fading quickly to static thereafter.

Liara sat in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking. "That, Shepard, was released onto the extranet nearly twenty years ago. Some called it a hoax, but that little to stop the rush of people looking for this 666, but nothing was ever found." Flipping through her Omnitool, a new, static, image appeared within the Kodiak.

"My copy, as I said, was heavily encoded. That is because of this. An anonymous contact sent this to me, upon hearing that you still lived, and that Tali had died. He requested a meeting." She gestured to the image, which displayed a heavily deteriorated corpse. Enough remained however, to identify it as salarian. The corpse sat with his back against a wall, upon which was marked a familiar word. SHELTER.

"I cannot date this image," Liara began, "But as you can see, it appears to be the doctor shown during the video. Zooming in with a quick wave of her omnitool, the image focused on the body's right hand. It clutched a small canister.

Shepard, listening intensely throughout the video, finally spoke. "And this is Rezkruban 666?"

Liara shook her head slightly. "As you saw in the video, the doctor never actually says the word Rezkruban. I used it upon introducing it to you in case you had heard of it from the extranet, but you had not. That was the term given to this "six hundred and sixty sixth batch", when people saw it upon the extranet. Rezkruban is an amalgamation of 'Rez' and 'Kruban'. As you may have guessed, 'Rez' is nothing but slang for the human word "resurrection". Kruban, meanwhile, is a krogan mythological paradise in which honorable warriors feast on the internal organs of their enemies. Fitting, but a bit of a misnomer. As the salarian said, this substance does not actually resurrect someone."

Shepard waved her hesitations with it's naming away. "But are we sure it will work on Tali? And where is this singular batch now?"

Turning off her omnitool, Liara leaned back into her seat. "I believe it will work. You heard him say it. The salarian designed this for use on someone recently dead. Tali, thanks to your use of that biotank, still fits that description in a physical sense. If you have people standing by, ready to work on her upon..." she stumbled over her words, unsure of how to describe the process.

Shepard had never been one afraid to hear the truth. "What, Liara?"

The asari sighed. "Tali took extensive damage from those injuries. Two massive gunshot wounds to the upper torso. A broken leg, a brain contusion from some sort of fall. Even if we manage to find this substance, she may only be "restarted" long enough to die again."

The Commander shifted in his seat, sitting in silence for a long while until he finally responded. "I failed her once, Liara. I will not let that happen again."

At that moment, Garrus, who had been flying the shuttle, opened the cockpit door before sticking his head into the passenger cockpit. A grave look showed upon his face. "Bad news, Shepard."

Pulling out his shotgun, the Commander carefully inserted a fresh thermal clip. "Omega seems to be full of bad news Garrus. What is it?"

The turian had disappeared into the cockpit to set the Kodiak onto autopilot before returning to the aft compartment. He waved towards the consoles he had just left. "Liara's anonymous contact wanted us to meet him at Afterlife in one of the private rooms. Well, you may remember Aria T'Loak? De-facto ruler of Omega, owner of Afterlife? Just got a message from her, denying us access. She says you have become... too unstable for her to allow into her establishment. Bad for business."

Liara put a hand on Shepard's shoulder, attempting to mitigate his rising anger. "We can negotiate, or meet somewhere else."

Shepard, however, shook his head in an angry, dismissive fashion. "I am done negotiating. I am done playing the nice guy. I will bring Tali back, Liara. I promised. And if Aria wants to try and stop me? Well," he pumped the shotgun, "that's why I have this. Garrus, get back up there and put us down right in front of that club."

The turian nodded, following Shepard's order to the letter. Soon after, the small shuttle rested alongside other such craft directly across from the entrance to Afterlife. Sticking his head once more into the back, Garrus asked if he would accompany Shepard and Liara to the meeting.

Rising from his seat while simultaneously disengaging the exterior door's locks, The Commander shook his head. "We may need to leave fast, Garrus. And if that happens, I want you here, ready to go."

And with that he disembarked from the shuttle. Liara moved quickly to follow him, leaving the shuttle with a small wave to Garrus. The turian looked distraught at being left behind.

Shepard, however, was moving too quick to notice. With his shotgun unslung, the crowd that had formed for entrance to Afterlife parted quickly. The pair of batarian guards standing before the door, however, did not.

"Sir. I'm going to have to as-" The batarian's request was cut short by the discharge of Shepard's shotgun, the blast having caught him in the throat. Liara was stunned, her biotics flaring to life as the batarian dropped to the ground.

Before the other guard could react, Shepard had turned his shotgun towards him. "Tell Aria that I'm going to have a chat with someone." The second batarian, wide-eyed, coughed out an affirmation before running through the front door of the club. Shepard waited a few seconds before following him. Meanwhile, those outside the club were in a panic, running from the human and asari in every direction. The lack of a police presence on the station, however, brought no armed response. Omega was accustomed to murder.

Passing through the front doors, Liara moved to stay in pace with Shepard. The long hallway that served as the entrance corridor for Afterlife was marked on either side by video panels displaying fire, their red light reflecting off Shepard's face in a most disconcerting way. Liara was sure his cybernetic implants were more visible than the week prior, his pupils now ringed with a line of red.

As they moved quickly towards the club proper, she finally found herself asking a question, although her voice shook. "We could have talked, Shepard. They would have let us in. But you murdered him, by the goddess. Murdered..."

Shepard spun on his heel, his hand coming up to point a finger in her face. He glowered with rage. "I told you that you did not have to come. I told you that this would not be as clean as the chase for Saren. People will die, innocents will get in the way. I will not break my promise. Leave if you want." His accusative gesture shifted towards the door, before he continued moving towards the club.

Liara hesitated, conflicted on what to do. _I owe him so much_, however, repeated in her mind. That proved too much for her to disregard. She continued to follow.

Upon entering into the main dance floor, Liara was surprised to find no sign of the panic that had spread outside. The music, it seemed, had been too loud for anyone to hear anything. Looking up to the second story, she saw the batarian guard yelling frantically at an important looking asari. Liara had only met Aria once before, during her hunt for Shepard's body, and she still felt no urge to like her. The batarian glanced over her shoulder as he continued to speak, but stopped suddenly upon seeing Shepard. He started pointing, a movement that caused Aria to turn towards the front door. She said not a word, but motioned with a single gesture. All eight of her personal guards started down the stairs.

"Follow me!" Liara shouted into Shepard's ear, grabbing his hand. She led him through the crowd, away from the approaching guards. Both Liara and Shepard were fully armored, and their presence caused many bar patrons to move out of their way. This phenomenon unfortunately also happened to work for the pursuing guards. What had been a slow chase through a crowd turned into a headlong rush through a path that opened as they pushed forward.

Rounding the bar, their destination came into sight, a small private room built into one of the exterior walls. The guards were yelling, an especially anxious turian finally drawing his assault rifle, causing the crowd to surge towards the front doors, buying the two enough time to reach the door.

Slamming her hand into the door's holographic display, Liara shoved Shepard through the small gap between the opening doors, before following shortly afterward. The door finished opening, then slammed shut suddenly, its holographic display going red. It was locked. Liara squinted at the door, her back to Shepard. She could barely hear pounding on the door outside, obviously the guards had finally reached it. But if they had not locked the door, who had?

Turning around, Liara found the darkened room empty, besides herself and Shepard. She was beside herself with frustration. "This is not good. This "anonymous" contact was supposed to meet us right here. And now we are stuck! Those guards will kill us when they get the door open!"

She waited, expecting the Commander to answer with some sort of plan or explanation, but he remained silent. She turned on him, about to tell him this was no time to fall apart, but Shepard had evidently not been listening to her. He was looking into the shadows that darkened the deepest corner of the room, unblinking. Liara, intrigued, finally started to see what Shepard was looking at. A massive figure leaned against the wall, shrouded in shadows. His stance seemed... familiar to Liara. It was Shepard that identified him.

"Wrex?"

The krogan battlemaster moved from the shadows, coming into the dim light of the overhead lamp. His hands held a grenade launcher.

"Shepard."

* * *

Unlike the last time, Tali'Zorah did not slip suddenly from the all encompassing blackness that her waking mind seemed unable to forget. This time, it was more of a fight, like wading through waist high molasses. Tali seemed to be making no progress, but a quick popping sound was followed by a door appearing in front of her. With nothing but darkness in every other direction, Tali opened the door, passing through it quickly.

She walked into a small office, the door she had entered through appearing to be the only exit. From the bookshelves that circled the walls to the desk that sat in the center of the room, adorned only with a small light, Tali felt as if she was somewhere ancient. The expertly styled hardwood paneling that covered the floor and any free areas of the wall only worked to promote the feeling of ancientness.

It was then she noticed the man that sat behind the desk. He was tastefully dressed in mostly black, from the exquisite black suit he wore to the black leather shoes that adorned his feet. Even the gloves he wore were black, resulting in his head being the only uncovered portion of her body. But upon attempting to identify or even to simply quantify the man, Tali found her mind unable to retain the memory of his face. She came away the distinct impression that he was handsome, but she could not place her finger on _why _he was. Without being able to "see" his face, she was unable to determine what race he was, besides being some sort of humanoid.

Clearing his throat, the man finally seemed to noticed that she had entered. She got the impression he was smiling. "Please," he waved towards a chair, "have a seat. We have much to talk about." His voice was as unperceivable as his face, for Tali found it hard to identify any distinguishing characteristics of it, besides its suave, endearing tone.

Tali had, however, been on her people's homeworld last time she had 'awoken'. After that, a man with features she could not classify was hardly alarming. She walked across the plush, thick red carpet before taking a seat in the heavy chair that sat across from the man. For some reason, the walking and sitting felt strange, or at least different then it had on Rannoch.

The man seemed to sense her confusion, and produced a gesture that encompassed her entire body. "You may notice that I have taken the liberty of returning you to your envirosuit. I, unlike my adversary, am quite aware of your people's sense of personal space."

And _that _was what had felt so wrong upon entering the room. She looked down, seeing the familiar lines of her suit, realizing the tightness she felt came from its strict embrace. Reaching up with a hand, she stroked the visor, her hand incapable of touching her face. She did not know how she hadn't noticed any of this before. Perhaps time flowed differently wherever she was, or her time in the darkness had slowed her cognitive processes; she simply did not know. Tali had so many questions, and started with the most obvious.

"Who are you?" Her question hung in the air as the man slowly set his elbows upon the desk, clasping his hands together. She sensed he was again smiling.

"Where are my manners? Dear me, I must apologize. It is not often I have guests." He rose, walking towards one of bookshelves. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am a man of wealth and taste. I've been around a long, long year, and yet I still lack a name. If you read these books," he started pulling out a series of such written works, piling them into the crook of his arm, "...you will find that I have been given different names by different races at different times. My favorite? The humans once called me 'Morning Star', in Latin of course."

The man returned to the desk, placing each book in front of Tali. Many of the titles were unknown to her. _The Tipitaka, the Bible, the Qur'an, the Qun..._ Finally, one actually proved familiar to the young quarian. She moved to pick it up, but the man grabbed it first. He grimaced.

"Ah, how did this get in here? You no doubt recognized it, for it is the holy book of your people. The Kee'lah Soquet." He seemed to spit out the actual title of the book some of Tali's people held in such high regard. Tali was not especially religious, but trouncing on anyone's beliefs was against her ideals.

And the man once again seemed capable of sensing that. He waved a hand, apologizing. "Once again, I must ask for your acceptance of an apology. It is just that I, one of The Three, have no place in that book. It is all about that who you call Keelah, my brother." He sighed.

The quiescence that followed gave Tali the chance to ask the question that had nearly exploded out of her upon hearing him say 'Keelah, my brother'. She could not contain the awe in her voice. "Ar-are you a god?"

The man sat down, as if afraid of approaching that question too quickly. "We have no real need of such term. But yes, you may call me a god. One of three. You have already met my brother," he did not seem happy to bring him up. "The one of smoke that cruelly teased you with false impressions of the world your people hold so dear. And you have been in the hold of the Third of us for most of your time here. That blackness is all The One In-Between is capable of producing."

Tali was beyond any sort of surprise. She took his statement as the simple admission of fact, and questioned him further. "Why am I here?"

The man checked his watch, a finely wrought thing of silver and diamond. "As I said, we are short of time, but I will try to answer your question. You are here because of Shepard. He is quite intent on returning you to life, something that has not been done..." He trailed off, a smirk 'appearing' on his face. "Since he accomplished the same thing." He laughed. "We appear to be losing our edge!"

The man's chair let out a despondent crack as he leaned back, setting his feet upon the desk. "But you are not here, in my office, to ask questions. I, simply put, have a request to ask of you. I wish to help yourself and Shepard, to throw the proverbial wrench into the plans of my brother, my great adversary. But to do that, Shepard needs to succeed, and without you, he won't."

Tali sat, her hands wringing in her lap. "I know nothing of your work, your intentions. You said it yourself, quarians have historically never recognized you. What if I refuse?" The man did not move, but the room she was in nearly shattered with the feeling of fury that suddenly prevailed.

The young quarian, however, was far more focused on the effect her question had had on her body. Her clean envirosuit was suddenly replaced with a dirty, blood covered one. Her visor displayed a familiar crack, while a large rip opened in her suit on the right shoulder, but it was the pain that arrived in which Tali was most concerned. The misery she felt in her shoulder was untenable, her back arching in torment. She tried to shift her position, but that only caused her leg to announce its displeasure to the sound of bone grinding against bone. She started to cry, the anguish overwhelming her.

The man brought his feet down from his desk, his voice solemn. "This is how you died, Tali. In a dark alley, covered in your own blood. If you refuse to help me, this will be how you remain. But I can make it stop, I can help. I just need you. Submit to my assistance, and this all goes away."

Tali'Zorah, through tears, stammered out a singular reply.

"I-I will h-help you. Please, please make it stop!"

The man smiled. "Excellent."

* * *

**Continues in Chapter 6: Aggressive Negotiations (Part 2)**

**I must once again beseech you readers to review . 2000+ hits and only 20 reviews? That makes me sad. Remember: ****Cineri gloria sera venit.**


	6. Aggressive Negotiations Part 2

**Author's Note: I may sound like a broken record, but please review.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Aggressive Negotiations (Part 2)**

"_**Saepe ne utile quidem est scire quid futurum sit..."**_

**("Often it is not even advantageous to know what will be...")**

**~Marcus Tullius Cicero**

Liara T'Soni had much to worry about. She was locked in a small room, outside of which at least eight heavily armed men waited, assault rifles and shotguns at the ready, for an opportunity to break their way in. That room just so happened to be in the lower level of the club owned by the local despot, Aria T'Loak. And, for good measure, Shepard had managed to murder one of her guards on the way in.

She could not, however, dwell on those facts. And the reason for that stood directly in front of her, his hands clutching a large grenade launcher. Liara never liked to see an angry krogan, and the heavily armored battlemaster that stood in front of her only furthered that bias. Simply put, Urdnot Wrex was in a foul mood.

"I thought you were dead." Shepard stated simply. Wrex had never been one for beating around the bush, and the Commander's numerous attempts to crack that veneer of indifference during the hunt for Saren had subsequently colored any relations they had.

"Well, you did shoot me on Virmire. Thanks for that, by the-" Wrex's sarcastic retort was interrupted by Shepard moving quickly to draw his assault rifle. Quickly leveling the grenade launcher towards the Commander's chest, the krogan succeeded in persuading Shepard that finishing such a movement would end in a most unfortunate manner. It seemed Wrex hadn't lost his edge.

"Now, Shepard, we don't need any surprises. My plan was to invite you here, talk a bit, kill you, and leave. But now you attracted all that attention, and brought Liara." He pointed to the asari with the barrel of the weapon.

Shepard moved between the two, spreading his arms. "Your grudge is with me, Wrex. You will not take it out on her." At first, Liara was happy to have another layer of armor between herself and Wrex's weapon, but her indignation flared as she realized what the Commander was doing. She spoke up.

"I don't need you to look after me, Shepard. I learned a lot those two years you were gone." In an effort to punctuate that statement, Liara allowed her biotics to flare to life, enveloping her in a swirling aura of dark energy.

Wrex laughed. "Calm down, Liara. You could rip out one of my hearts, and I would still win the fight. How many times did we go over that during the long elevator rides on Illos? And Shepard is right, my feud is not with you."

Unbelieving, but without another course of action, Liara slowly stepped out from behind Shepard, allowing her biotics to draw down. Seeing this, Shepard lowered his arms before responding. "You know it wasn't me, Wrex. I tried to talk you down, to show you that Saren was just using the krogan. Ashley fired the shot."

"No, Shepard." Wrex started, "Ashley may have fired the shot, but _you_ killed me that day. The discharge of Ashley's rifle came about as a result of your actions, of allowing the gentle genocide of the salarians to continue. I barely escaped the nuke you set off. Hell, after having your bitch shoot me, and then damning my race, I must admit that I was pissed. But during my recovery, I began to think that you just might have been correct, that perhaps there was other ways in which to help my people. So I returned to Tuchanka, to try and reunite my people. But when they saw me," He paused, turning to show Shepard the left side of his body. The armor he wore did little to hide the damage that multiple assault rifle rounds had done. "...they rejected me, Shepard. I spoke of breaking traditions, and they accused me of wanting to only weaken the krogan. Perhaps if I had been strong, I could have forced my demands, but your_ betrayal_ prevented that. Because of you, the krogan will never rise through the means we have conventionally used."

As Wrex spoke, the pounding on the door had stopped, as if the guards outside were attempting a different strategy. Liara was the only one to have noticed this, but she was reluctant to reveal it to either Shepard or Wrex. She was afraid one of the two would use her distraction to attack the other.

Shepard meanwhile, continued the argument. "So, what Wrex? You lured me here, posing as one of Liara's contacts, just so you could kill me?"

Wrex shook his head, a considerable movement considering its size. "No, Shepard. I brought you here to show you this." Keeping the launcher pointed at the Commander, Wrex pulled a small canister from one of the myriad of pockets his armor sported. "Then I will kill you."

Liara openly gasped, her focus switching from the door back to their conversation. She could not stop herself from asking before Shepard managed to. "I-Is that batch 666? You really _do _have it?"

Smiling, Wrex held the canister to the light, its opaque glass hiding the liquid inside. "Yes. I heard that Tali had died, that you _loved_ her, Shepard." He seemed to find that idea funny. "And I knew you were looking for a way to bring her back. Rezkruban 666 was the only option open to you. Well, I sure as hell found it funny that I happened to have it in my possession. Payback can be a sneaky little bitch."

Sensing it before Shepard actually acted, Liara attempted to grab hold of him, to keep him from doing anything rash, but the human was too strong for her. He pointed a finger at the krogan, face contorting into rage. "Give it to me, Wrex. I will not leave without it, and I can promise you that it is not something to die over."

"Nothing to die over?!" The incredulity in Wrex's voice was tangible. "This small canister is the last chance the krogan have. Like I said, the krogan will never again rise utilizing the means we have before. Luckily, I had a contingency plan, steeped in science." Wrex seemed to find the idea of any plan containing science a most unlaudable prospect.

"When I started funding that salarians project, I never thought anything would come of it. But Kalran, the crazy bastard, came through, nearly twenty years ago. When I recovered his work the Council was searching hard for it. Setting up a lab to replicate this would have been far too noticeable, so I hid it. Now, with the galaxy afraid of the geth, of collectors?" He shrugged. "I could set up that lab in the middle of the Presidium, and the Council wouldn't notice."

Shepard, his hand slowly drifting towards his sidearm, attempted to keep Wrex talking. "And what now Wrex? You going to shoot me, dash Tali's chances of resurrection? We both know you aren't that much of a monster."

To Shepard's surprise and Liara's horror, Wrex plastered a smirk upon his face. "You've been gone over two years, Shepard. You have no idea what I am." Setting the vial back into his pocket, the krogan carefully aimed his grenade launcher. His smirk never wavering, Wrex made a final pronouncement. "You may want to stand back, Liara. Hate to get blood over your shiny armor." Without any further hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

As if ordained from some higher power, several events coincided with that pull, their results apparent simultaneously. The firing of Wrex's weapon was accompanied by a terrific explosion from the door, as the series of charges placed on it detonated. Liara, acting on instinct, had thrown a biotic barrier around herself and Shepard, protecting them from both blasts.

Her barrier did not, however, stop the smoke and sound from disorientating her. Coughing, Liara found herself being pulled along by Shepard, who had drawn his pistol. He was firing at Wrex, who had been thrown against the private room's back wall. Each shot punched a fresh hole through the chest plate of his armor, causing orange blood to pool on the floor.

Passing through the charred remains of the doorway, Liara and Shepard found themselves again on the main floor of Afterlife. It seemed that Aria had emptied the club in preparation for breaching the door, and had set an ambush for when they emerged. Their plan, however, had failed to materialize when Wrex's grenade had missed Shepard in the chaos, instead finding the group of soldiers lying in wait just outside the door.

Wading through the destruction, Shepard quickly neared the door to the entrance hallway. Liara finally regained her senses and tried to pull him to a stop. "Wait," she shouted, "We need to get that canister from Wrex!" She was not about to let this excursion have been in vain.

Shepard paused, reaching into a pocket. His hand withdrew a small canister. "Grabbed it in the confusion. Now lets g-" Shepard's words were cut off by a massive hand grabbing his arm, while another one reached for his pistol.

Urdnot Wrex was bleeding from multiple chest wounds, and his grenade launcher was no where to be seen, but that did little to dissuade the sudden stab of fear that struck Liara. The battlemaster was swearing, his eyes showing the tell tale marks of that which no krogan enemy wants to see. Bloodrage.

"Shepard!" was the only thing Wrex managed to work in between profanities, his voice betraying an anger that seemed to be fueling his ability to retain consciousness.

With a twist of a wrist, Wrex quickly broke Shepard's grasp on his pistol, allowing it to drop to the ground. Now equally unarmed, the two began to wrestle in a turbulent bid to gain an upper hand. It became quite apparent that Shepard was faster, with his strikes falling all across Wrex's face. But, to Liara's horror, the krogan's strength was winning the fight. As the fight slowly turned, Shepard's back became bent at an uncomfortable angle. Exemplifying krogan combat, Wrex was trying to literally snap the Commander in half. Liara breathed in deeply, her biotics coming online.

Like a wraith falling upon a beleaguered traveler, Liara unleashed everything she had upon the krogan. Her attack caused Wrex to throw the Commander away, through the doors, into the entrance hallway. He then attempted to raised his own biotics, building a shimmering blue shield between himself and her biotic assault. Normally, a krogan battlemaster is a match for any ten ordinary soldiers, but the surprising ferocity of her attack took him aback, and he retreated towards the center of the room, barely preventing her from landing a killing blow.

Meanwhile, Aria T'Loak had been trying to rally her guards, although this was proving difficult. To make a point, she placed her pistol against the helmet of an injured batarian, and finished the job Wrex's grenade launcher had started. This galvanized her remaining men, some of which headed towards Shepard, who was just now getting back onto his feet.

Wrex's retreat soon reached the bar, where he found himself unable to retreat any farther. Liara continued her attack, throwing up singularities to his left and right, preventing escape. Wrex, however, had no intention of remaining on the defensive. With a roar, he suddenly pressed onto the attack, knocking aside her barrage, and breaching her protective barrier in a single lunge. Liara was stunned, her ineffectual final attacks being blocked by the krogan with ease. Finally coming within reach, Wrex grabbed Liara by the throat, lifting her off her feet.

Even though her doctorate was in archeology, Liara had enough knowledge of anatomy to know what was happening. As Wrex squeezed, she found herself unable to breath in any more oxygen, a result of her trachealis muscle compressing beyond its intended limit. Any more pressure, and her trachea would collapse, and what would follow would be a most unpleasant death by asphyxiation.

In desperation, Liara looked towards where Shepard had fallen, her instincts recalling an expectation that had developed during her interactions with him during the hunt for Saren: a strong conviction that the Commander could save her from anything. And it is true that precedent pointed towards that conclusion. She had seen Shepard shrug off the attacks of a half dozen asari commandos. She had seen him walk away from a direct hit from a thresher maw. She had seen him storm the citadel tower, seen him kill Saren. To her, there was nothing the Commander was incapable of.

But this was not the same man. It was only now, her addled thought processes slowly shutting down, that she realized what should have been blatantly obvious. The Shepard she had accompanied here was not the one placed upon Alliance recruitment posters; he was not the man who had lived by the motto 'No one gets left behind.' No. This was the Shepard that suffered ever more frequent periods of rage. This was the Shepard that had all but abandoned the mission to stop the collectors. This was the Shepard who had brutally murdered a batarian guard without a hint of regret. Had she been physically possible, Liara would have cried at the conclusion she finally came to. _The Shepard she had known had died in a dark alley onboard this very station, kneeling in a red pool of blood that was not his own._

That realization forced a new clarity through her thoughts, a clarity that did not waver when she finally caught sight of Shepard, for once, running away. And running he was; slipping through the exterior doors, pursued by two of Aria's guards, the small canister in his hand. '_He abandoned me',_ her oxygen deprived mind whispered. _'I saved him, and he left me!'_

Had the misperceptions she had held until moments ago persisted, perhaps she could have found the strength to break Wrex's hold, to free herself. But the drive to live, the drive to succeed, had all but left her. Liara's head slumped as her mind shut down everything in an attempt to focus on simply keeping her alive. Soon after, the krogan battlemaster dropped her body, moving towards the door.

* * *

Weighing in at 39 kilograms, the Widow Anti-Material Rifle had been specifically developed for sniper teams in assault missions against armored vehicles. While the newest kinetic barriers offer effective protection on said vehicles, the kind generated by conventional hard suit field generators are far too weak against such a weapon.

The first of Aria's guards pursuing Shepard learned of this fact first hand. The round that emerged from the Widow literally ripped the man in two, his torso separating from his legs.

Working the thermal clip's ejection lever, Garrus smiled to himself. A weapon such as this would have taken _days _to cool down with the old manual heat sinks. The turian, left to his own devices when Liara and Shepard had entered the club, had began rummaging around in the weapons bay. He had known Shepard found some rather interesting armaments while exploring the galaxy, but the Widow had been a surprise.

By now, Shepard had cleared Afterlife's entrance hallway, his long strides bringing him closer to the shuttle. Shaking his arm a bit, Garrus found himself thankful that he had decided to use the Widow's bipod. Firing any other way would have broken his arm.

The other pursuant guard took this small window that Garrus had presented to fire off a quick burst of fire towards the retreating form of Shepard. The Commander's shields held up, although the force of impact knocked him off his feet.

Returning to the scope, Garrus spotted where that guard had taken cover, a massive stone pillar, impervious to any conventional attack. Moving the cross hairs to where he believed the guard would appear next, Garrus reflected on his previous thought. That stone pillar _was _impervious to any conventional attack, but the Widow was _anything_ but conventional. With a small shrug, the turian restored the pillar to the middle of his sight. In an effort to combat the spike in air pressure that accompanied firing the rifle, Garrus started to exhale, before he pulled the trigger.

The sound of the Widow firing was impressive, although the weapon's target never heard what had killed him. The Widow's bullet traveled the thirty-five meters to its target in less than a quarter of a second. The stone pillar was immediately pulverized, with the bullet emerging on the opposite side, striking the guard directly on the spine. He did not die. He did not "expire". The force of that shot was so strong, the man simply disappeared in a red mist.

Garrus, however, was disappointed. He rarely made anything but headshots. Shepard's arrival at the shuttle, however, quickly shifted his focus. Looking back to the club, Garrus asked the obvious question. "Where is Liara?"

The Commander would not meet his eyes, instead pointing towards the shuttle's cockpit. "Get us out of here."

Garrus had once decided that he made a bad turian, for a good turian never disobeyed a direct order. He found himself living up to that self-definition again. "We can't leave, Shepard. No one gets left behind."

With a growl, Shepard grabbed the Garrus by the ring of armor that circled his neck. His tone demanded no argument. "She is gone, dammit." He held up a small canister. "But I got it, Garrus. I can bring Tali back. Liara knew the risks."

The Commander let go, and Garrus moved slowly towards the waiting consoles that would activate the shuttle. He could not believe what he was hearing. Who was the man he had just left in the passenger compartment? Shepard never left someone behind. Hell, he had even managed to get _both_ Kaiden and Ashley off of Virmire. Shepard's voice brought Garrus out of his thoughts. The human was gesturing towards the club. "We are about to have company. Come on, Garrus."

Spooling up the Kodiak's engines, Garrus lifted the shuttle off the ground as the rest of Aria's guards spilled out of her establishment. They were firing at the shuttle, but such small arms had no real chance of passing through it's shields. As the club passed from view, Garrus caught sight of a large being emerging from the front door. _Hm, _Garrus thought, _I didn't think Aria employed Krogan._

The turian settled in for the ride back to the Normandy, expecting silence from his Commander. The sound of glass breaking, however, forced Garrus from his relaxed position. He glanced back, to where Shepard sat. The small canister lay broken at his feet. Garrus was alarmed, his mandibles spreading in surprise.

Shepard let out a weary laugh. "The son of a bitch. That goddamn motherfucker!" He lifted his gaze, to Garrus. "It was empty, Garrus. That canister? One hundred percent empty. That bastard was just playing with me." He laughed again, dropping his gaze once more to the floor. As the shuttle automatically tilted a bit, to stay perfectly level in relation to Omega's "ground", a piece of that canister slid up against the Widow sniper rifle. Had Garrus not returned to flying the shuttle, he would have seen Shepard's apparent despair transform into grim resolve. as a plan formed in his mind.

He soon felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking back into the rear compartment, Garrus observed Shepard ejecting the spent thermal clip from the Widow. As soon as they locked eyes, the Commander pointed towards where Aria's club had disappeared behind an especially tall building.

"Turn this thing around," Shepard announced. "That motherfucker is going to die for this."

Garrus did as he was told. Ignoring orders came naturally to him, but Shepard had never displayed intentions such as these.

The human was soon laying prone, the barrel of the Widow sticking out of the port side door as Afterlife came back into view. At least two dozen of Aria's men were outside, some of them stripping the two guards who had died of anything valuable, others simply standing around. None of them, though, went anywhere near the massive krogan leaning against the wall of the club. He was arguing with Aria, as orange blood continued to trickle down his chest.

Garrus put the shuttle into a hover, about hundred yards out from the club itself. This action, however, drew the attention of the krogan. Shoving an indignant Aria out of the way, he started marching towards the Kodiak. Garrus was shocked. _What was Wrex doing here?_

Shepard, it seemed, failed to share that shock. The tremendous sound of the Widow firing echoed within the confines of the shuttle, its target only furthering Garrus' confusion.

The bullet streaked towards Wrex, its trajectory perfect. The krogan, however, did not stop his advance. Instead, with a guttural roar, Wrex powered up his biotics, slamming his arms down in single, fluid moment. To everyone's surprise, the Widow's bullet mimicked his actions, resulting in the round slamming into the ground mere feet from Wrex.

"Shit." Both the turian and human mumbled simultaneously. Shepard worked quickly to chamber another thermal clip, but Wrex had already covered most of the ground between the club and the hovering shuttle.

With a second roar, the krogan once again unleashed his biotics. Garrus was fumbling, trying to reach Shepard, as Wrex enveloped him in a blue glow. There was nothing the turian could do to prevent the human from being lifted high into the air. The krogan bellowed a final insult.

"See, Shepard? You will get to meet Tali after all!"

With another sharp gesture, Shepard was hurtling towards the floor. He hit hard. Too hard.

**Continues in Chapter 7: 23...Qg3**

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Thanks for reading. Once again: Review!**


	7. 23Qg3

**Author's Note: As always, I must appeal for your reviews and comments. Currently, the reader-to-review rate is hovering right around 1.13%. That hurts. Also, for those who enjoy my writing style, I am pleased to announce that I have just published a second Fan Fiction with Tali as the central character, entitled "Beneath the Shroud". Of course, if you have already added me a "Favorite Author" you would already know that. *Hint Hint***

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**Chapter Seven: 23...Qg3**

"_**De duobus malis, minus est semper eligendum..."**_

**(Of two evils, the lesser must always be chosen...)**

**~Thomas a Kempis**

"How you have fallen from heaven, O morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations!" The man laughed upon reading this aloud, his head shaking in dismay. "The humans got closest to getting the story right, but they always placed me _below _my brother, like he created me, and then cast me out. Foolish."

As the man returned to paging through the book, Tali'Zorah found herself very confused. After agreeing to help the man with the ever changing face who called himself Morning Star, he had started explaining his plan. But then she had slid into darkness, before suddenly reappearing in front of the man again.

The man sensed her confusion, as he always seemed capable of doing. He quickly closed the book, which Tali saw had read Isaiah 14:12 upon the top of page, and reached across the table to grab her hand. Looking into her eyes, although the nature of his face presented her from returning the gesture, the man asked her a question. "Tali, does it seem like you just skipped in time, or that you cannot remember what I was referring to as I read the book?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes blinking rapidly as a corner of the room drew her attention. Where once a bookcase had stood, now only a creeping black presence remained, slowly drawing towards the center of the room. The man followed her gaze, before letting go of her hand to rummage under his desk. He was mumbling in an angry voice.

"W-whats going on?" The quarian girl finally asked, as another corner of the room seemed to suddenly fell into a dark blackness.

The man straightened up, placing three silver objects upon his desk. "You," He started, sounding quite harried, "...are being pulled back into the darkness, where the One-in-Between rules. But it's happening faster than it should. Leave it to my brother to _cheat_ in such a manner..." He pounded his hand on the desk, the action doing little to it's heavy oak surface. "Now, I apologize for the... symbolism these objects stand for, but we have no other way. I need you to put them on."

As the man slid the three silver circles across the desk, Tali finally got a good look at them. Two were of equal size, the third a bit larger, each engraved upon their side in a most intricate fashion. Each depicted the same thing, a five-pointed star encased within a circle. She found them beautiful, especially the way in which light seemed to play across their surface, their natural luster unharmed by their apparent age.

"What do I do with them?" She finally asked, slowly picking up one of the smaller circles, her hands running across their smooth surface.

Upon looking at his face, she got the impression that the man was embarrassed. He brought a hand to one wrist, then reversed the action, before finally touching his neck. "Like I said, put them on."

As she realized what he wanted, Tali dropped the silver instrument, her hands drawing back as if bitten. "They are two cuffs, and a collar!"

"Like I said," the man started, "I am sorry for the potent symbolism such devices create, but I must assure you: they are entirely benign. To you at least."

Tali was dubious. She slowly placed one hand back upon the table, grabbing one of the cuffs. Examining it, she pulled upon where the two sides met. The cuff opened slowly, its hinge hidden and quiet. What she observed, however, only weakened her wavering trust in the man. "They have locks."

The man wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sighing in the process. "We do not have the time for me to explain our rules, Tali." He spread his arms in an effort to draw her attention back to the room. To her surprise, only the desk and its immediate surroundings remained untouched by the impending darkness. "My promise must suffice. Without those articles, you will be pulled back into the darkness, and you will never help Shepard. How many times has Shepard risked something for you?"

His last comment stung the quarian. Shepard had _always _been willing to risk his life for her. She _had_ to return the favor. With determination, she grabbed one of the cuffs, snapping it onto her wrist. A click indicated it was locked on. The darkness that had nearly enveloped her slid backwards. Noticing this, she grabbed the other cuff, and now emboldened, placed it upon her right wrist.

Once again, the darkness drew back. As Tali reached for the collar, the man suddenly stood up, the abrupt action throwing his chair back into the slowly receding darkness. Believing she had done something wrong, Tali drew her hand back. The man, however, was pointing behind her.

The quarian turned quickly to follow his gesture, but saw nothing. The man did not seem to share this view, as he nearly leapt over the desk, positioning himself between her and the area of blackness that had drawn his attention. "No!" He shouted, "She is _mine_!"

The man's possessive suggestion struck a wrong chord with Tali, but the bright light that suddenly sprang from the encroaching darkness forced that thought from her mind. Emerging from that light, the quarian recognized a familiar being. Although hard to distinguish upon the black background, a smoke-like figure was visible. As the being moved closer, Tali came to the conclusion that this had to be the same being that she had met on Rannoch, during the first time she had "awoken" from the blackness.

Upon coming within a couple meters of the edge of the darkness, the being of smoke stopped. Tali could barely make out a quiet, although distinct, mumbling coming from it. While she was unable to interpret what it was saying, the man's reaction to its 'talking' was immediate, and decisively hostile.

He continued his yelling. "Dammit, brother! She is correctly anchored here, in my plane. You, have no claim to the quarian. I don't even know how you are capable of being..." The man stopped suddenly, pivoting on his heel to face Tali. "You haven't put on the collar?! Hurry up, do it! All three pieces are needed to keep you here, away from _him._" He spat out the last word.

Tali, a deep fear rising within her, moved quickly to grab the collar. As she raised it to her neck, the being of smoke spoke again. This time, however, it's voice was clearly audible. As before, on Rannoch, the voice seemed to resonate from within her own mind. "Tali'Zorah must not complete that trinity. We will lose you. Shepard must fail. It is the only way we know how!"

The young quarian hesitated, the collar mere centimeters from her neck, indecision suddenly gripping her. The man, seeing this, became enraged. With a quick snap of his fingers, Tali found herself once again upon the brink of death. The bullet wounds upon her shoulder returned, the crack upon her visor reappeared, and her breathing once again became labored. The being of smoke was again speaking to her, but its message was lost to the sheer agony she suddenly found herself enduring. And yet through that agony, a single phrase kept repeating itself in her head: "End the pain, help Shepard, put on the collar."

Before, when placed into this state, Tali had submitted to the pain. But now she continued to hesitate, intent on considering the facts. This was easier said than done. As her brain registered the various amounts of damage her body had endured, it screamed for a release or way to end the pain. Later, she would find it hard to identify exactly what had caused her to stall. Truth be told, it was a phrase, which she kept repeating, driving out the pain, the agony, the demands for submittance: _What would Shepard do?_

The man without a face openly admitted that the figure of smoke was his brother, and that the quarian people called that being "Keelah". To Tali, that had to mean that the being of smoke was naturally good. The man's treatment of her when she considered going against her wishes only served to further strengthen Tali's resultant conclusion: that the man without a face was in some way evil.

Had she came to this conclusion before the arrival of the being of smoke here within this room, her reaction would have been clear cut. But now, a portion of the being's appeal drilled into her rational thought processes. _Shepard must fail._ Why had it said that? Shepard, the Shepard she loved, would never do anything hostile, or "evil". If this being of smoke was against Shepard, Tali found herself at odds with its motives. No matter what the facts said, Shepard would never do anything to harm her, or the galaxy at large. The man she knew, the man she loved, was a hero, a _paragon._ And so she made her decision, allowing the collar to clamp around her neck.

At once, her body pulled back from the brink of death, her wounds healing instantly. The being of smoke's temper raised suddenly, but a second later it had disappeared. The darkness that had been slowly swallowing the room retreated completely, leaving Tali with the man, who returned to his seat across the table from her.

"You made the right decision, Tali." The man said solemnly. "Now, let me explain everything, before Shepard arrives."

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"We are lucky, sir. The asari have pseudo-stratified epithelium that are generally more resilient to damage than mine or yours."

Harlan'Con was not the sort of person you tried to overwhelm with scientific aptitude. But he was in an unusually good mood, and the human doctor that stood across from him was new. Harlan let him off easily. "And what does that mean, doctor?"

The human doctor, who, despite his large vocabulary, had been butchering patients in the lowest sections of Omega when Harlan had found him, placed a hand upon his throat. "Her trachea, erm, windpipe. You or me? That krogan would have crushed it. But our guest got lucky. Barely."

Harlan laughed as he positioned himself closer to their guest, his wheelchair squeaking indignantly at the movement. The doctors that had held the human's position before him had promised cybernetic implants to regain his mobility. With them now lying in a shallow grave on some distant planet, Harlan had gotten used to the idea of using the wheelchair for a little while longer. He sure as hell wouldn't trust that human butcher to do any sort of reconstructive work.

Normally that line of thought ended with Harlan in a rage, but today was just too good to lead to that result. It had all started hours earlier, when Aria T'Loak had shown up outside of his compound, with a gift. She had been angry, rambling about incompetence and krogan. When Harlan had told her to "quite yapping and spit it out", he had been afraid Aria would make a most... unfortunate decision to attack him right there.

Aria was needy. Aria was bitchy. Aria, however, was not stupid. Hurting the crippled quarian that sat in front of her would have been shortened her lifespan considerably. And Harlan had indeed been prepared. A single word would have sent a sniper's round right through Aria's forehead.

Luckily for both sides, neither criminal wanted another gang-war hurting their business. Instead, Aria had given Harlan the asari prisoner she had brought with her, on the condition that any information extracted would be forwarded to her. Harlan had accepted, and after a couple hours of preparation, he was about to have some fun.

Stopping his wheelchair in front of the prisoner, Harlan could not stop himself from smiling, although his helmet hid this emotion from anyone watching him. "Wake her up, doctor."

The human nodded, moving to stand beside the prisoner. Activating his omnitool, he started the automated injection process, which was slow. The initial near-strangulation had succeeded in knocking her out, but Aria had been keeping her unconscious though the use of an intravenous drip. Pushing those drugs out of her system took nearly three minutes.

As consciousness slowly returned to Liara T'Soni, her eyes fluttered behind a tinted visor.

Liara's first breath was hard, as if sucking in through a straw. When combined with her last memories of being choked by Wrex, the young asari started to panic.

"Calm down!" The human doctor said, touching her shoulder. "Just keep breathing. While unconscious, your breathing was shallower and you didn't clear the filters properly."

Being a scientist, Liara had over 100 years of experience in noticing that which others deemed irrelevant. The first thing to pop into her head was why she felt so very constricted. The second, and more disturbing, was why, exactly, did she have to breath through a filter? As her eyes finally focused, an audible gasp escaped from between her lips.

Liara was bound to a wall, with metal shackles binding her arms and legs in a most uncomfortable "X" position, resulting in her feet hanging a mere inches from the ground. But it was what she was wearing that most alarmed her.

"An envirosuit, Liara." Harlan announced. "Of the quarian style, with modifications to the helmet for..." He waved his hand in a twirling motion, attempting to find the correct word, before determining that a derogatory description would have to suffice. "...your tentacle head. Doc. Show her the mirror."

The human doctor nodded, moving a full length mirror in front of Liara. She gasped again. Either the crippled quarian in front of her had some serious fetishes, or he was incredibly thorough. From the tip of the helmet she wore, to the soles of the boots that encased her feet, she looked remarkably quarian. Only the width of her hips, the extra fingers and toes, and the increased depth of her helmet gave away that an asari was underneath the suit. Upon examining her face, or what she could see through the polarized visor, Liara suddenly noticed that she could actually see her eyes. "H-how," she stammered, "did you make my eyes glow?"

The crippled quarian winked. "Don't worry, my dear. Simple, temporary injections. Wanted the look to be complete, you know? So tell me, how does it feel? You came to us in a hardsuit, but this must be something new. Tell me."

Liara hesitated, pulling slightly on her restraints, testing them. Futile, she determined. They were well secured. "Well," she started, far more willing to talk than... whatever the quarian in front of her wanted to do with her, bound as she was. "The helmet has to be the oddest. Watching myself talk in this mirror, I can't help to find the little light that flickers annoying."

Harlan clasped his hands together, squinting at her. "Annoying? Your completely cut off from the outside world, and the light attracts your attention!? Imagine being stuck in that suit, for years at a time. Unable to eat solid foods. Unable to feel the wind. Unable to smell anything without it going through three layers of filtering."

As the quarian started to rant, Liara tried activating her biotics, but nothing happened. _The room has biotic dampeners_, she thought. _This man has thought of everything._

Harlan continued, "And what do the races of the citadel do? They call us beggars and thieves! And they sip their wine and eat their caviar as they do it! A quarian tries to get a job, and they call him a vagrant. You show that you have had other employers, and they tell you that you are too expensive to maintain! So what happens? That quarian ends up sleeping in some charity, eating paste. And what do people say? 'Why don't you go get a job'?! Its a fuckin' circle!"

Liara, listening to the quarian yell, became increasingly concerned. It was bad enough that she was bound upon a wall, dressed in what she assumed he deemed 'sexy'. But by judging his voice, Liara determined that the quarian had to be far past the age in which your average quarian finished their pilgrimage. And he spoke of poverty, but this room was extremely well furnished. Liara had meant it to be a mental thought, but she for some reason vocalized the question that was relaying in her head. "Just who are you?"

The crippled quarian was quiet for a few seconds, and Liara feared he hadn't heard her. He gave a hand signal to the doctor, who promptly left the room, before responding. "My name is Harlan'Con. I don't have a "ship name", they strip that from you when exiled. Being the information broker you are, you may have heard of some of my nicknames. My favorite? One-shot."

Had Harlan been able to see Liara's face, he would have seen her jaw drop. Living within the Terminus Systems, who hadn't heard of One-Shot? She tried to remember what her contacts had said of the man. He was a major slaver, but ranking by quantity, he hadn't even cracked the top ten. No, she remembered, One-Shot was a specialist. That approach had made him one of the richest men in the Terminus Systems, although no-one knew what he looked like. The fact that he was a quarian caused Liara to shutter. One-Shot had aimed his nickname by being the premier source for female quarian slaves for "recreational purposes" as he advertised. After those female quarians had been..._ used_... they generally died. Someone had joked that you only got "One-Shot" with them, and the name had stuck.

"Your a monster..." Liara mumbled.

"More like a businessman, Liara." Harlan replied. "I saw the system that the galaxy had built for the quarian people: a system of repression and ridicule. What was the point, I thought, of returning to the Fleet, when every quarian on pilgrimage would face persecution? That was running away from a problem that needed fixing. So I decided to attempt to sway the council, for quarian rights. Pretty soon, though, I realized that lobbying required money, so I looked for other ways in which to fund my efforts. Slaving had the highest profit margin..." He shrugged, "...so I started slavin'. Made more money then I knew what to do with, and kind of lost sight of helping my people. Got older, I guess. Less altruism, or maybe the rampant capitalism outside of the Fleet rubbed off on me. Hell, if they just dumped that socialist economy they have been running, maybe the Fleet wouldn't be such a piece of shit, and I would have never needed to lobby the council."

The young asari, bound as she was, could not stop her anger from flaring. "Why hurt the quarian people then!? Taking young ones while they are on pilgrimage?"

Harlan wheeled his chair closer to Liara, until he was within a few feet. "Like I said, for the _money_. Do you know how many wealthy perverts out their want to see whats under a quarian mask? Under a quarian suit? You're wearin' one now. What do you think? Does it's tightness not tempt those who look upon you? Hell, and the fact that they die after they get _used_ is just good news for everyone. I have a consistent demand that needs fulfilling, and my customers don't get attached to who their screwin'!" The crippled quarian laughed at that, slapping a knee in an outward show of humor. "Its so...easy, too! Young, naive quarians on their pilgrimage are always looking for other quarians to help them. I offer that help, lure em' to a back alley, and my men jump em'. Its so funny to watch their faces as we cuff em'. Thinking about it now, its probably their eyes I like most. All filled with surprise and fear. Cute."

This conversation, to Liara at least, was surpassing disturbing. Had she not been bound to the wall, she was unsure if that quarian would be alive had she got her hands on him. Without the opportunity to hurt him, however, she tried to change the subject. "What do you have planned for me?"

At this point, the human doctor reentered the room, a small black briefcase in his hand. "Funny that you should ask that now," Harlan replied. "Couple weeks back, I tried the ol' lure a quarian trick. Been doing it for nearly thirty years now, so I wasn't expecting any trouble. But I just so happened to be speaking to Tali'Zorah vas Normandy." He spoke the name with contempt. "She must have recognized what I was doing, cuz' before I knew it, she had a shotgun in hand. Hit me good once," he paused to motion towards his wheelchair, "before my men hit her with a sniper rifle. Tough bitch though. Managed to get away, at least until she bled out."

_This was the man who killed Tali! _The revelation threw all of Liara's thoughts into a jumble. She couldn't, despite what her mind was telling her, stop questioning him. "So are you just going to... s-sell me?"

Harlan once again laughed as he took the briefcase from the human doctor. "No, Liara. You really don't see where this is going? I know Shepard is trying to bring back Tali. Hell, the man died himself! But I need particulars. Where? When? _How? _So you are going to tell me. Most importantly, I need to find out how to track the Normandy. Damn stealth system, and whatnot."

Liara, her bravery returning as the chance of her being sold as a slave lessened, nearly spit on the quarian opposite her. Only the realization that she still wore a quarian-style mask restrained her. "I will not tell you anything."

The quarian opened the briefcase, although the lid prevented her from seeing its contents. "And that is why you wear that suit." He paused, bringing his gaze back up to meet the silvery orbs that marked Liara's eyes. "Well, that's not true. Catching a young quarian is rare, and I must say I have some sort of attraction to the suit you where. You are... so close to being perfect. Only the legs, no recurve. Shame. But...," As Harlan broke from his musings, he once again returned his attention to the suitcase. "...that is not the main reason you are attired in such a way. You may or may not know that quarian suits are marvels of engineering. Able to, by themselves, heal cuts, scrapes, and other such wounds. Well..."

As Harlan trailed off, he lifted an object from the briefcase, into Liara's line of sight. It was a blade, almost 7 inches long. He chuckled, slowly running a finger along the knife. "When I ask a question, you will most probably either refuse to answer, or lie. Either way, I start cutting. And it would be a messy business, no doubt, if you weren't wearing that suit. But since you are? Well, it will automatically attempt to heal or fix any suit, and skin, punctures. Also, usually, it would try to apply some sort of painkiller or medigel. I have left your suit's reservoirs empty. Hate for you to forget the lessons your about to learn."

The more Harlan talked, the more Liara fought against her restraints. This quarian was going to _torture _her! "You can't do this, y-you bastard!" She shouted. "Sh-shepard will-"

"Shepard will do what, Liara?!" Harlan interjected. "Save you? No way in hell. Your dead to him, Liara. Don't really know why he left you, but I don't really care. I need answers to my questions. And the first question is: What is Shepard going to use to revive Tali?"

Liara stopped struggling, her eyes locking onto his. Although two layers of glass, and at least six feet, separated them, Harlan felt a cold chill run down his spin. "Fuck you." She growled.

Harlan gave the briefcase back to the doctor. "We _**are**_ going to have some fun!" As he rolled his chair directly next to Liara, the asari again began to struggle. "Now, then..." He mumbled, bringing the blade up to her side.

Liara thrashed as the blade sunk into her flesh, just below her ribs.

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Checking the clock, Harlan let the bloodied blade drop into the doctor's hand, who immediately began cleaning it. It had taken nearly six hours, and ultimately 132 cuts, but he finally had the answers he needed. As Harlan rolled his chair towards the door, he looked over his shoulder to the human. "Dump the body, doc. I need to sleep."

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**Continues in Chapter 8: Revenge and Resolution**

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And, again, please review. Please!**


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